1 God of the morning, at whose voice The cheerful sun makes haste to rise, And, like a giant doth rejoice To run his journey thro' the skies;
2 From the fair chambers of the east The circuit of his race begins, And without weariness or rest, Round the whole earth he flies and shines.
3 O like the sun may I fulfil Th' appointed duties of the day, With ready mind and active will March on and keep my heavenly way.
4 [But I shall rove and lose the race, If God my sun should disappear, And leave me in this world's wild maze, To follow every wandering star.
5 Lord, thy commands are clean and pure, Enlightening our beclouded eyes, Thy threatenings just, thy promise sure, Thy gospel makes the simple wise.]
6 Give me thy counsels for my guide, And then receive me to thy bliss; All my desires and hopes beside Are faint and cold compar'd to this.