Rorate Cæli

S. Andreæ Apóstoli.

Lay your yoke upon me like the dewfall,
Gentle Lord, which does not bend the branches,
nor even crush the smallest of the small,
but of leaf and twig alike enhances
the dignity of being what You made,
adorned—not burdened—by the gracious weight
of life you give to never end nor fade!
Drop down, you heavens, dew!—O let it sate
at last this thirst You wrote into the heart
of man, O let it gild the wild woods
that strive for You from valleys far apart—
O clothe all in Your grace and call it good!
If man You made for life, O Father, then
pour out your life in us and make us men.

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