The solemn hush of nature newly born;
Alone with Thee, in breathless adoration,
In the calm dew and freshness of the morn.
* * * * * *
When sinks the soul, subdued by toil, to slumber,
Its closing eyes look up to Thee in prayer,
Sweet the repose beneath Thy wings o'ershadowing,
But sweeter still to wake and find Thee there.