Spike is Best

Mother watching through the night,
prepare us for the morning light;
seclude us with your vigil flame
until the sounding of our names
upon the lips of Son you bore,
whose wounds and face we'll then adore,
and with glad oil running down
our brows, we'll run upon the roads to sound
new mornings in the furthest bounds:
Christ growing with us, as a flame
elongates at the draught of air:
Mother watching through the night
be our air, breach our bounds with air
and feed the flame of Christ our light.