Wings of the Morning

"The morning hangs its signal

Upon the mountain's crest,

While all the sleeping valleys

In silent darkness rest;

From peak to peak it flashes,

It laughs along the sky

That the crowning day is coming, by and by!

We can see the rose of morning,

A glory in the sky,

And that splendor on the hill-tops

O'er all the land shall lie.

Above the generations

The lonely prophets rise,—

The Truth flings dawn and day-star

Within their glowing eyes;

From heart to heart it brightens,

It draweth ever nigh,

Till it crowneth all men thinking, by and by!

The soul hath lifted moments

Above the drift of days,

When life's great meaning breaketh

In sunrise on our ways;

From hour to hour it haunts us,

The vision draweth nigh,

Till it crowneth living, dying, by and by!

And in the sunrise standing,

Our kindling hearts confess

That 'no good thing is failure.

No evil thing success!'

From age to age it groweth,

That radiant faith so high,

And its crowning day is coming by and by!"

 

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