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13

III

8,7,8,8,7

Up rose the morn behind the hills

When all the world was sleeping;

And beauty smote the dancing rills,

And gladness chased our brooding ills,

And set our hearts a-leaping.

Then high at noon the sun looked down

Upon our care and fretting,

The while we trod the path of life,

In ease or toil, in pain or strife,

Remembering or forgetting.

And now 'tis eve, and solemn night

Its curtain spreads above us;--

O God, in mercy let us rest,

Assured that all in life is best,

If Thou, our Father, love us.

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