AT SUNRISE

When the slanting beams of the rising sun,
That awaken the world from night,
Give promise and hope for the day begun
In a radiant glow of light;
When the dewdropshangs like a pendant gem
On the leaves that are fresh and green,
Where it shines like a sparkling diadem
On the brow of a sylvan queen;
Then 'tis morn, and the matin sweetly rings
O'er hill and through wood and glen,
And it's Nature's voice that a new hope brings
To the millions of toiling men.

When the morn stands tiptoe upon the hill,
There is joy in the heart of man;
It is then, if ever, he feels the thrill
Of his place in the cosmic plan.
Then he knows and feels in the golden glow
There is promise of life and love,
And a song in his soul breathes sweet and low,
And ascends to the throne above.
He renews his strength in the new day's birth
As his hopes within him arise
Like the mists that arise from the teeming earth
And are wafted toward the skies.

By
J. M. Richardson©