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126
THE MORNING STAR.
O, how darksome, long, and dreary,
Hang the heavy shades of night,
When the sleepless eye is weary,
Waiting for the morning light!
Such, methinks, the woe-clouds, lying
Chill and gloomy on the soul,
While in secret is her sighing,
Where unseen her tear-drops roll.
Hang the heavy shades of night,
When the sleepless eye is weary,
Waiting for the morning light!
Such, methinks, the woe-clouds, lying
Chill and gloomy on the soul,
While in secret is her sighing,
Where unseen her tear-drops roll.
Lo, the dawn! its herald cheering
Mounts the orient sky afar,—
On its dusky verge appearing,
Shines the beauteous Morning Star!
Such, the day-spring of the morrow,
To the spirit sad and lorn,
Through the weary night of sorrow,
Watching for a ray of morn.
Mounts the orient sky afar,—
On its dusky verge appearing,
Shines the beauteous Morning Star!
Such, the day-spring of the morrow,
To the spirit sad and lorn,
Through the weary night of sorrow,
Watching for a ray of morn.
Hail to thy resplendent beaming!
Holy brightness! on the way,
Where thy silver rays are streaming,
Soon will pour a flood of day.
Hope, thou diamond star of morning!
Thus upon our darkened skies
Dost thou come, their verge adorning
Where the sun of joy shall rise.
Holy brightness! on the way,
Where thy silver rays are streaming,
Soon will pour a flood of day.
Hope, thou diamond star of morning!
Thus upon our darkened skies
Dost thou come, their verge adorning
Where the sun of joy shall rise.
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