Classic Poem

The morning, the bright and the beautiful morning
Is up, and the sunshine is all on the wing,
With its fresh flush of gladness the landscape adorning, —
A gladness which nothing but morning can bring.
The earth is awaking, the sky and the ocean,
The river and forest, the mountain and plain;
The city is stirring its living commotion,
And the pulse of the world is reviving again.

And we too awake, for our heavenly Father,
Who soothed us so gently to sleep on his breast,
And made the soft stillness of evening to gather
Around us, now calls us again from our rest.
But ere to our labors and duties returning,
We hasten to give him the praise that is meet,
And in solemn devotion, the first hours of morning,
Our freest and freshest, we lay at his feet.

Then, happy in heart, not a moment delaying,
In the breeze of the dawning so pleasant and cool,
No loitering, no lingering, no trifling, no playing,
But eager and active, we haste to the school.
How sweet are its hours that shine o'er us so brightly;
How pleasant its lessons, how short seems the day;
Its hours are but moments, they fly off so lightly,
When we are so busy, so cheerful, and gay.

Then away to the school in the sweet summer morning,
God's blessing upon us, his light on our road;
And let all the lessons we daily are learning,
Be only to bring us more surely to God.
O now, let us haste to our heavenly Father,
And ere the fair skies of life's dawning be dim,
Let us come with glad hearts, let us come altogether,
And the morn of our youth let us hallow to Him.