How the sunlight trickles through the trees
the canopy of our Lord, the Sun
who even here is conquering still. . .
And the dewdrops congeal and fall
And stroke his hair
That he still be reminded of the Love.

O Sun my Sun!  Come to me in thy radiant majesty!  Come to me in thy shining splendor!  Come to me as a carefree sunflower that rocks in the cradle of the wind's caress, even as I remember from my youth.

Come to me, o Sun my Sun, in all thy triumphant joy.  In thy light is all hope.  In thy joy are all things possible.   In thy love am I made myself.

Shine, o my Sun, Shine.  Thy light endureth through all eternity. . .