Up, up, my soul! with gladness rise, And greet the ever-brightening skies. The morn hath come, sweet morn, awake! And from thy pinions slumber shake. | Pure as the morn God's presence shines; Love like its beams, thy life entwines; Richer the gifts thy God bestows Than morning beauty can disclose. | Sweet as the breath that fans the bowers, And stirs the leaves and opening flowers, Comes with the morn, the breath Divine To stir thee, slumbering soul of mine. | 9 O Thou, the Morn, the Light, the Sun, With Thee be every day begun; Brightness shall clothe my life always, And fill my soul with grateful praise. | Glory to Thee, O Christ my Lord! Light of my soul, Incarnate Word! Come with the morn, abide alway, And cheer my course to endless day. | |