 | The American common-place book of poetry |  |
The Matin Hour of Prayer.—Anonymous.
This cool and fragrant hour of prime,
Unvexed by life's intrusive care,
My matin hour of praise shall be,
Sweet, solitary praise, and prayer.
Unvexed by life's intrusive care,
My matin hour of praise shall be,
Sweet, solitary praise, and prayer.
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'Twill gird my spirit for the fight,
The glare, the strife, of this world's way;
Weak, tempted, weary, lone, and sad,—
'Tis never, never vain to pray.
The glare, the strife, of this world's way;
Weak, tempted, weary, lone, and sad,—
'Tis never, never vain to pray.
This cool and fragrant hour of prime;
The silent stars are fading quite;
The moist air gently stirs the leaves,
Dew-laden, to the breaking light.
The silent stars are fading quite;
The moist air gently stirs the leaves,
Dew-laden, to the breaking light.
The stillness, the repose, the peace,
They win the quiet soul away,
To visit that Elysian world,
Where breaketh an eternal day.
They win the quiet soul away,
To visit that Elysian world,
Where breaketh an eternal day.
Ere falls the stealing step of dawn,
The night's soft dew on her brown wings,
Upriseth from her nest the lark,
And, soaring to the sunlight, sings.
The night's soft dew on her brown wings,
Upriseth from her nest the lark,
And, soaring to the sunlight, sings.
Thus may my soul sing on, and soar
Where sight tracks not her flight sublime,
Morn, noon, sweet eve, and ever in
This cool and fragrant hour of prime.
Where sight tracks not her flight sublime,
Morn, noon, sweet eve, and ever in
This cool and fragrant hour of prime.
For, though the world enclose me round,
Strong Faith can carry me abroad,
Where shines my home,—Jerusalem,
The glorious dwelling-place of God!
Strong Faith can carry me abroad,
Where shines my home,—Jerusalem,
The glorious dwelling-place of God!
Then let my soul sing on, and soar
Above the world, beyond all time,
And dwell in that pure light, and breathe
The air from that celestial clime.
Above the world, beyond all time,
And dwell in that pure light, and breathe
The air from that celestial clime.
Sing on and soar, sing on and soar,
Till, through the crystal gates of heaven,
No longer closed in upper skies,
Thou enter in to sing, Forgiven!
Till, through the crystal gates of heaven,
No longer closed in upper skies,
Thou enter in to sing, Forgiven!
| The American common-place book of poetry | |