Thou Art The Sun Of

Blest Are The Pure In Heart, For They Shall See Our God. The Secret Of The Lord Is Theirs; Their Soul Is Christ's Abode.

New Every Morning Is The Love Our Waking And Uprising Prove, Through Sleep And Darkness Safely Brought, Restored To Life And Power And Thought.

Soft As Memnon's Harp At Morning, To The Inward Ear Devout, Touched By Light, With Heavenly Warning Your Transporting Chords Ring Out. Every Leaf In Every Nook, Every Wave In Every Brook, Chanting With A Solemn Voice Minds Us Of Our Better Choice.

Give Us Grace To Listen Well.

Sprinkled Along The Waste Of Years Full Many A Soft Green Isle Appears: Pause Where We May Upon The Desert Road, Some Shelter Is In Sight, Some Sacred Safe Abode.