To the Paedagogus

Teacher, to Thee a chaplet I present,

Woven of words culled from the spotless mead,

Where Thou dost feed Thy 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 Thy servant still,

(Seemly is praise to Thee for Thy 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 Thy word

Divine fitly disposed, alone didst make;

Who broughtest forth the sunshine and the day;

Who didst appoint 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 didst create

This ordered sphere, and from the shapeless mass

Of matter didst the universe adorn;—

Grant to me life, and be that life well spent,

Thy grace enjoying; let me act and speak

In all things as Thy Holy Scriptures teach;

Thee and Thy co-eternal Word, All-wise,

From Thee proceeding, ever may I praise;

Give me nor poverty nor wealth, but what is meet,

Father, in life, and then life’s happy close.