XXXI | Doctor Watts's imitation of the Psalms of David, to which is added a collection of hymns; the whole applied to the state of the Christian Church in general (3rd ed.)#XXXII | XXXIII |
Text: | A Morning Song |
1 Once more, my soul, the rising day
Salutes thy waking eyes;
Once more, my voice, thy tribute pay
To him who rolls the skies.
2 Night unto night his name repeats,
The day renews the sound,
Wide as the heaven, on which he sits
To turn the seasons round.
3 'Tis he supports my mortal frame,
My tongue shall speak his praise;
My sins would rouze his wrath to flame —
And yet his wrath delays!
4 A thousand wretched souls are fled
Since the Last setting sun,
And yet thou lengthenest out my thread,
And yet my moments run.
5 Dear God, let all my hours be thine,
While I enjoy the light;
Then shall my sun in smiles decline,
And bring a peaceful night.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | Once more, my soul, the rising day |
Title: | A Morning Song |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1786 |