Morning Thoughts

The summer sun is shining Upon a world so bright! The dew upon each grassy blade; The golden light, the depth of shade, All seem as they were only made To minister delight.

From giant trees, strong branched, And all their veined leaves; From little birds that madly sing; From insects fluttering on the wing; Ay, from the very meanest thing My spirit joy receives.

I think of angel voices When the birds’ songs I hear; Of that celestial city, bright With jacinth, gold, and chrysolite, When, with its blazing pomp of light, The morning doth appear!

I think of that great River That from the Throne flows free; Of weary pilgrims on its brink, Who, thirsting, have come down to drink; Of that unfailing Stream I think, When earthly streams I see!

I think of pain and dying, As that which is but nought, When glorious morning, warm and bright, With all its voices of delight, From the chill darkness of the night, Like a new life, is brought.

I think of human sorrow But as of clouds that brood Upon the bosom of the day, And the next moment pass away; And with a trusting heart I say Thank God, all things are good!