Classic Poem

Morn, the morn, sweet morn is springing;
In the East his sign appears;
Dews, and songs, and fragrance flinging
Down the new robe nature wears.
Forth from slumber, forth and meet him!
Who so dead to love and light?
Forth, and as you stand to greet him,
Praise to Him who giveth night.

Noon, the noon, high noon is glowing;
In the South rich glories burn;
Beams intense from Heaven are flowing;
Mortal eye must droop and turn.
Forth and meet him! while the chorus
Of the groves is nowhere heard,
Kneel to Him who bendeth o'er us —
Praise with heart and willing word.

Eve, the eve, still eve is weeping
In the West she dies away;
Every winged one is sleeping —
They've no life but open day.
Forth and meet her! lo, she lends us
Thrice ten thousand brilliants high!
Glory to His name who sends us
Such night jewels from the sky.

Death, pale death, to all is certain;
From the grave his voice comes up —
" Fearless, raise my gloomy curtain —
Find within eternal hope "
Forth and meet Him , ye whose duty
To the L ORD OF L IFE is given:
H E will clothe death's garb with beauty —
H E will give a path to Heaven.