HE golden morn flames up the eastern sky,
And what dark night had hid from every eye
All-piercing day-light summons clear to view :
And all the forests, vale, or plain, or hill,
That slept in mist enshrouded, dark and still,
In gladsome light are glittering now anew.
Shine in my heart and bring me joy and light,
Sun of my darkened soul, dispel its night,
And shed in it the truthful day abroad d;
And all the many gloomy folds lay bare
Within this heart that fain would learn to wear
The pure and glorious likeness of its Lord.

Glad with Thy light, and glowing with Thy love,
So let me ever think, and speak, and move,

As fits a soul new-touched with life from heaven, That seeks but so to order all her course,

As most to show the glory of that source

By whom alone her strength, her life are given.

I ask not, take away this weight of care;
No, for that love I pray that all can bear,
And for the faith that whatsoe'er befall
Must needs be good, and for my profit prove,
Since from my Father's heart, most rich in love,
And from His bounteous hands it cometh all.

I ask not that my course be calm and still;
No, here too, Lord, be done Thy holy will;

I ask but for a quiet, child-like heart;
Though thronging cares and restless toil be mine,
Yet may my heart remain for ever Thine,

Draw it from earth, and fix it where Thou art.

I ask Thee not to finish soon the strife,
The toil, the trouble of this earthly life:

No, be my peace amid its grief and pain;

I pray not grant me now Thy realm on high:
No, ere I die let me to evil die,

And through Thy cross my sins be wholly slain.

True Morning Sun of all my life, I pray
That not in vain Thou shine on me to day,

Be Thou my light when all around is gloom;
Thy brightness, hope, and courage on me shed,
That I may joy to see, when life is fled,

The setting sun that brings the pilgrim home.

Heavenward.

EAVENWARD doth our journey tend,
We are strangers here on earth,
Through the wilderness we wend

Towards the Canaan of our birth.

Here we roam a pilgrim band,

Yonder is our native land.

Heavenward stretch, my soul, thy wings,

Heavenly nature canst thou claim,
There is nought of earthly things
Worthy to be all thine aim;
Every soul that God inspires,
Back to Him, its source, aspires.