130
And on the sea of life thy bark is tost;
Fear not the billows hoarse, or tempest dark,
For thy Redeemer guides the cleaving bark.
MORNING.
THE morning clouds afar are roll'd,
The birds awake my rest,
And see a ray of liquid gold
Comes darting from the east.
What shall I render to the friend,
From whom my blessings flow?
What shall I say to thee, my God,
Whose hand supports me so?
Oh, raise my earth-born soul above,
Bid all my pow'rs adore,
Nought can I render for thy love,
But this request for more.
