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God of the Morning, at Whose voice
God of the morning, at Whose voice
The cheerful sun makes haste to rise,
And like a giant doth rejoice
To
run his journey through the skies.
From the fair chambers of the east
The circuit of his race begins,
And, without weariness or
rest,
Round the whole earth he flies and shines.
O like the sun may I fulfill
Th’appointed duties of the
day,
With ready mind and active will
March on and keep my heav’nly way.
But I shall rove and lose the
race,
If God, my Sun, should disappear,
And leave me in this world’s wild maze,
To follow every wand’ring star.
Lord, Thy commands are clean and pure,
Enlight’ning our beclouded eyes;
Thy threat’nings just, Thy promise sure,
Thy Gospel makes the simple
wise.
Give me Thy counsel for my guide,
And then receive me to Thy bliss;
All my desires and hopes
beside
Are faint and cold compared with this.
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