The Instructor

Teacher, to You a chaplet I present,
Woven of words culled from the spotless mead,
Where You feed Your flocks; like to the bee,
That skilful worker, which from many a flower
Gathers its treasures, that she may convey
A luscious offering to the master's hand.
Though but the least, I am Your servant still,
(Seemly is praise to You for Your behests).
O King, great Giver of good gifts to men,
Lord of the good, Father, of all the Maker,
Who heaven and heaven's adornment, by Your word
Divine fitly disposed, alone make;
Who broughtest forth the sunshine and the day;
Who appointed their courses to the stars,
And how the earth and sea their place should keep;
And when the seasons, in their circling course,
Winter and summer, spring and autumn, each
Should come, according to well-ordered plan;
Out of a confused heap who created
This ordered sphere, and from the shapeless mass
Of matter did the universe adorn—
Grant to me life, and be that life well spent,
Your grace enjoying; let me act and speak
In all things as Your Holy Scriptures teach;
You and Your co-eternal Word, All-wise,
From You proceeding, ever may I praise;
Give me nor poverty nor wealth, but what is meet,
Father, in life, and then life's happy close.