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MORNING
His compassions fail not. They are new every morning. Lament. iii. 22, 23.
Hues of the rich unfolding morn, That, ere the glorious sun be born, |
By some soft touch invisible Around his path are taught to swell; — |
Thou rustling breeze so fresh and gay, That dancest forth at opening day, And brushing by with joyous wing, Wakenest each little leaf to sing; — |
Ye fragrant clouds of dewy steam, By which deep grove and tangled stream Pay, for soft rains in season given, Their tribute to the genial heaven; — |
Why waste your treasures of delight Upon our thankless, joyless sight; Who day by day to sin awake, Seldom of Heaven and you partake? |
Oh! timely happy, timely wise, Hearts that with rising morn arise! Eyes that the beam celestial view, Which evermore makes all things new!11Revelation xxi. 5. |
New every morning is the love Our wakening and uprising prove; Through sleep and darkness safely brought, Restored to life, and power, and thought. |
New mercies, each returning day, Hover around us while we pray; New perils past, new sins forgiven, New thoughts of God, new hopes of Heaven. |
If on our daily course our mind Be set to hallow all we find, New treasures still, of countless price, God will provide for sacrifice. |
Old friends, old scenes will lovelier be, As more of Heaven in each we see: Some softening gleam of love and prayer Shall dawn on every cross and care. |
As for some dear familiar strain Untir’d we ask, and ask again, Ever, in its melodious store, Finding a spell unheard before; |
Such is the bliss of souls serene, When they have sworn, and stedfast mean, Counting the cost, in all t’ espy Their God, in all themselves deny. |
Oh, could we learn that sacrifice, What lights would all around us rise! How would our hearts with wisdom talk Along Life’s dullest, dreariest walk! |
We need not bid, for cloister’d cell, Our neighbour and our work farewell, Nor strive to wind ourselves too high For sinful man beneath the sky: |
The trivial round, the common task, Would furnish all we ought to ask; Room to deny ourselves; a road To bring us daily nearer God. |
Seek we no more; content with these, Let present Rapture, Comfort, Ease, As Heaven shall bid them, come and go: — The secret this of Rest below. |
Only, O Lord, in Thy dear love Fit us for perfect Rest above; And help us, this and every day, To live more nearly as we pray. |
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