A Song of Morning
Ethel Clifford
I WOULD give thanks to God for morning time;
Of all the happy day of hours God-given,
It is the prime
Best lifts my heart to heaven.
Before day comes into the valley here
I dream of those who live beyond the hill,
And wonder if the silent-footed dawn
Into their lives is bringing good or ill.
The waiting earth is like a chidden child
That, wistful, looks if pardon may be there;
When, suddenly, the sun is on the hill,
God smiles, and it is morning everywhere.
And when the morn comes in with falling rain,
Yet is it still the time of all most dear—
It is the angels round about God’s throne
That weep glad tears, because they are so near.