Poems (Holmes)/Sunday Morning
Sunny Morning.
Oh, holy day! we hail thy dawn, That gently wakes the sleeping earth,For peace and rest with thee are born, And joy that fills the soul with mirth.
Thy holy beams all toil repel, And bid men for a while retire From scenes where care and business dwell, And oft their votaries expire.
And in thy sacred hours we learn Our Heavenly Father's gracious will,When to His holy word we turn, And seek the truths it doth reveal.
Or when His hallowed courts we tread, In humble faith with love combined,And hear of Christ, our living Head, Through His ambassadors divine.
And in the joys thy mornings bring, A pure and beauteous type is givenOf that unchanging glorious spring, Which saints of light enjoy in heaven.
For as thy hours of joy and peace Succeed the week of anxious care,So doth eternal happiness With God, the Christian's trials here.
And in thy name what joy is born, While holy oracles disclose,That once on thy auspicious morn The Sun of Righteousness arose.
Oh may this truth our souls pervade, Whene'er thy light illumes the sky,That we may strive with Christ, our Head, From death to rise triumphantly.
And may thy holy beams be shed Where'er the sun's bright rays are known,Till"all our race, of every grade, With one accord thy influence own.