When the arousing call of Morn
Breaks o'er the hills, and Day, new-born,
Comes smiling from the purple East,
And the pure streams of liquid light
Bathe all the earth-renewed and bright,
Uprising from its dream of rest-
O how delightful then, how sweet,
Again to feel life's pulses beat;
Again life's kindly warmth to prove;
To drink anew of pleasure's spring;
Again our matin song to sing
To the great Cause of light and love!
Thou! who didst wake me first from nought,
And led my heaven-aspiring thought
To some faint, feeble glimpse of Thee:
Thou! who did'st touch my slumbering heart,
With Thine own hand-and did'st impart
A portion of Thy deity:
O not in vain to me be given
The joys of earth-the hopes of heaven;
O not in vain may I receive
My Master's talents-but, subdued
And tutored by the soul of good,
To God-to bliss-to virtue live!
Heaven's right-lined path may I discern,
Nor led by pride or folly, turn
A handbreadth from the onward road;
Fight the good fight-the foe subdue,
And wear the heavenly garland too-
A garland from the hand of God!