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Poem	A morning hymn. Psa. 19:5,8; 73:24,25. 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 fulfil 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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