1 God of the Morning, at whose Voice
The chearful Sun makes haste to rise,
And like a Giant doth rejoice
To run his Journey thro' the Skies;

2 From the fair Chambers of the East
The Circuit of his Race begins,
And, without Weariness or Rest,
Round the whole Earth he flies and shines;

3 Oh, like the Sun may I fulfil
Th' appointed Duties of the Day,
With ready mind and active Will
March on and keep my heav'nly Way.

[4 But I shall rove and lose the Race,
If GOD, my Sun, should disappear,
And leave me in this World's wild Maze,
To follow ev'ry wand'ring Star.]

5 LORD, thy Commands are clean and pure,
Enlightning our beclouded Eyes;
Thy Threat'nings just, thy Promise sure:
Thy Gospel makes the Simple wise.

6 Give me thy Counsel for my Guide,
And then receive me to thy Bliss;
All my Desires and Hopes beside
Are faint and cold compar'd with this.