1 God of the morning, at whose voice
The cheerful sun makes haste to rise,
And, like a giant doth rejoice
To run his journey thro' the skies;
2 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.
3 O like the sun may I fulfil
Th' appointed duties of the day,
With ready mind and active will
March on and keep my heavenly way.
4 [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 wandering star.
5 Lord, thy commands are clean and pure,
Enlightening our beclouded eyes,
Thy threatenings just, thy promise sure,
Thy gospel makes the simple wise.]
6 Give me thy counsels for my guide,
And then receive me to thy bliss;
All my desires and hopes beside
Are faint and cold compar'd to this.