Horis peractis undecim,
ruit dies in vesperum;
solvamus omnes debitum
mentis libenter canticum.
Labor diurnus transiit
quo, Christe, nos conduxeras;
da iam colonis vineae
promissa dona gloriae.
Mercede quoque advocas,
quos ad futurum muneras,
nos in labore adiuva
et post laborem recrea.
Sit, Christe, rex piissime,
tibi Patrique gloria
cum Spiritu Paraclito,
in sempiterna saecula. Amen.
Eleven hours have come and gone;
The day to evening rushes on.
So let us all fulfill our part,
And sing a hymn with willing heart.
Our daily toil, O Christ, is done,
Which at your bidding was begun;
Now give the workers what is right:
The promised gifts of glory bright.
You call us, and you pledge to pay
Those whom you will reward someday;
In present labors be our friend;
Restore us when our labors end.
To you, O Christ, most kindly King,
And to the Father glory sing;
The Spirit Paraclete we praise
For ever and for endless days. Amen.