MORNING. His compassions fail not; they are new every morning. Lament. iii. 22, 23. HUES of the rich unfolding morn, Around his path are taught to swell ;– Thou rustling breeze so fresh and gay, Ye fragrant clouds of dewy steam, Their tribute to the genial heaven B -- Why waste your treasures of delight Upon our thankless, joyless sight; Oh! timely happy, timely wise, Which evermore makes all things newa! New every morning is the love Our wakening and uprising prove; Through sleep and darkness safely brought, Restored to life, and power, and thought. New mercies, each returning day, Hover around us while we pray ; New perils past, new sins forgiven, New thoughts of God, new hopes of heaven. If on our daily course our mind Be set to hallow all we find, New treasures still, of countless price, God will provide for sacrifice. a Revelations xxi. 5. Old friends, old scenes, will lovelier be, As more of heaven in each we see : As for some dear familiar strain Such is the bliss of souls serene, O could we learn that sacrifice, What lights would all around us rise! We need not bid, for cloister'd cell, The trivial round, the common task, Seek we no more; content with these, As Heaven shall bid them, come and go :- Only, O Lord, in thy dear love |