Life’s morning dreams. Come with the voice, the lyre,
Daughters of Judah! with the timbrel rise!
Ye of the dark, prophetic, Eastern eyes,
Imperial in their visionary fire;
Oh! steep my soul in that old, glorious time,
When God’s own whisper shook the cedars of your clime!
INVOCATION CONTINUED.
And come, ye faithful! round Messiah seen,
With a soft harmony of tears and light
Streaming through all your spiritual mien—