Now comes forth the glorious day
Like a bridegroom richly dight,
And before his flashing ray
Flies the sullen vanquished night.
Mountains, rills, with every voice
In the universe, rejoice!
Songs of grateful homage pay
To the God who made the day.
Mortal! Wake; the task be thine,
Nature's song of praise to join. Now the insect tribe awake,
Moving on the busy wing,
From the stream, the wood, the brake,
Forth they wheel in many a ring;
And the early birds their song
Pour, each wood and vale along.
Creatures all of God's right hand,
Tribes of air, and sea and land,
To their sport and labour rise
When the morning tints the skies. They to common tasks go forth; --
Man, to thee, the loved of heaven,
Is a work of noble worth,
Boundless toil, and glory given.
Rise, to meet Temptation's power;
Stand, in Passion's wildest hour;
Fast as danger round thee grows,
Gather strength from conquered foes;
Tread the path thy Leader trod,
Pressing on to Peace, to God. Wake thee, mortal! Ere the Sun
Sink beneath the golden West,
Must a toilsome course be run;
Think not, child of earth, to rest.
Rough the path, and steep, and hard;
Bright, though distant, thy reward;
Fear not, pause not, yield not now,
Soon that wreath shall twine thy brow.
Child of Heaven! there fix thine eyes;
Onward, onward to the prize!