Still, Still with Thee

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.

Alone with Thee

amid the mys­tic sha­dows

The so­lemn hush of na­ture new­ly born;

Alone with Thee in breath­less ad­or­ation

In the calm dew and fresh­ness of the morn.

As in the dawn­ing o’er the wave­less ocean

The im­age of the morn­ing star doth rest

So in the still­ness Thou be­hold­est on­ly

Thine im­age in the wa­ters of my breast.

Still

still with Thee

as to each new­born morn­ing

A fresh and so­lemn splen­dor still is giv­en

So does this bless­èd con­scious­ness

awak­ing

Breathe each day near­ness un­to Thee and Heav­en.

When sinks the soul

sub­dued by toil

to slum­ber

Its clos­ing eye looks up to Thee in pray­er;

Sweet the re­pose be­neath the wings o’er­shad­ing

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;

O in that hour

fair­er than day­light dawn­ing

Shall rise the glo­ri­ous thought

I am with Thee.