ALL the world lay still and silent in the
morning gray,
And at once a thousand voices hail the
glorious day;
For the great Sun glowing crimson rises o'er
the sea—
“Welcome, Day!" they sing together, "Day
that is to be!”
Oh how glad and sweet and joyous is that
morning hymn!
Whilst the golden day is stealing through
the valleys dim—
Thrush and blackbird, lark and linnet, doves
that coo and hum
Wild delight, and soft rejoicing, for the day
is come.
Not a thought of care or wonder what the
day will bring,
For the Father careth for them in the
smaliest thing.
There upon the pathless mountains is their
table spread,
All by God are known and numbered, by His
Hands are fed.
Some in deep and tangled forests where the
berries glow,
Some where children's crumbs are scattered
on the garden snow,
Some where through the river sedges may
flies glance and play,
Some where mountain tarns lie gleaming in
the hollows gray.
For the wild and hungry eagle, for the wren
so small,
All is ready-food and gladness, free to each
and all.
“Ye are of more value than many sparrows.”