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A MORNING SONG.

1 MY God, who makes the sun to know
His proper hour to rise,
And, to give light to all below,
Doth send him round the skies.

2 When from the chambers of the east
His morning race begins,
He never tires nor stops to rest,
But round the world he shines.

3 So, like the sun, would I fulfil
The business of the day ;
Begin my work betimes, and still
March on my heavenly way.
4 Give me, O Lord, thine early grace,
Nor let my soul complain,
That the young morning of my days
Has all been spent in vain.