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.
2
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.
3
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.
4
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!
