Matins.

—William H. Burleigh.

FOR the dear love that kept us through the night,
And gave our senses to sleep’s gentle sway,—
For the new miracle of dawning light
Flushing the east with prophecies of day.
We thank thee, O our God!

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Morning.

—John Keble.

HUES of the rich unfolding morn,
That, ere the glorious sun be born,
By some soft touch invisible,
Around his path are taught to swell;—

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Morning In The Mountains.

—Alice Cary.

 

MORN on the mountains! streaks of roseate light

Up the high east athwart the shadows run;

The last low star fades softly out of sight,

And the gray mists go forth to meet the sun.

 

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A Song for Morning or Evening.

—Isaac Watts.

‘They are new every morning.’ —Lamentations 3:23.

MY God, how endless is thy love!

Thy gifts are every evening new;

And morning mercies, from above,

Gently distil like early dew.

 

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