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IV

7,7,7,7

When the morning from the skies

Pours on earth its glorious rays,

Up, my soul, from slumber rise,

Give the God of light thy praise.

When the earth with beauty decked,

Spreads her verdant mantle broad,

Let thy garb the hues reflect

Of the holiness of God.

While the sun his course fulfils

Till the shining day is done,

For the task His wisdom wills,

Gird thee till the goal is won.

Every morn of every day

Heed the voice of God that calls;

Swiftly His behests obey

Ere the silent darkness falls.

Day is passing, night is near,--

Life is but a day at best;

Serve Thy God with holy fear,

If the night would bring you rest.

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