H. B. Stowe

STILL, still with Thee, when purple morning breaketh,

When the bird waketh, and the shadows flee;

Fairer than morning, lovelier than daylight,

Dawns the sweet consciousness, I am with Thee.


As in the dawning, o’er the waveless ocean,

The image of the morning star doth rest,

So in this stillness Thou beholdest only

Thine image in the waters of my breast.


When sinks the soul, subdued by toil, to slumber,

Its closing eye looks up to Thee in prayer:

Sweet the repose, beneath Thy wings o’ershadowing,

But sweeter still to wake and find Thee there.


So shall it be at last, in that bright morning

When the soul waketh, and life’s shadows flee;

Oh, in that hour, fairer than daylight’s dawning,

Shall rise the glorious thought, I am with Thee!


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