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Or dark with storms that rend the solid rocks,
Or cloth'd in rays that gild the nodding grove,
Or in her rapid flight, rejoicing move,
Still to the mortal eye, each change is fair,
And still awakes the strain of grateful love,
From the meek soul that feels its Maker's care,
And sees Him in His works, and loves to praise Him there.
MORNING PRAYER.
GIVER of light! who point'st the glorious sun
His destin'd way, and callest every star
Forth by its name, and causest day and night
To know their order, and to speak thy praise;
All powerful God! to whom creation sings
Her morning matins, let my mingling prayer
Rise with the chorus, while the trembling dawn
Dispels the shadows, and the damps of night.
Go forth, my soul, on high devotion's wing,
And bear thy first vows to thy Maker's ear,
