Oh Sunne, golden goddess, rising flame,
your chariot wheels sing the morning’s name.
Through cloud and shadow your fire breaks free,
a gift of warmth to land and sea.

You touch the fields, and seeds awake,
you paint the sky for the dawn to take.
The coldest stone, the darkest night,
all yield before your steadfast light.

No border binds your radiant gaze,
no tongue can limit your endless praise.
From desert sands to the northern snows,
wherever we wander, your blessing goes.

In every heart you plant a spark,
a quiet flame to guide through dark.
Hope is the harvest your presence sows,
the promise that life forever grows.

So let us lift our eyes above,
to greet your warmth, your gift, your love.
For Sunne shines in every breath we live,
and asks only this: receive, and give.