Here you will find thePoemMorning Thoughtsof poet James Montgomery
What secret hand at morning light, By stealth unseals mine eye, Draws back the curtain of the night, And opens earth and sky? 'Tis Thine, my God - the same that kept My resting hours from harm; No ill came nigh me, for I slept Beneath th' Almighty's arm. 'Tis Thine - my daily bread that brings, Like manna scatter'd round, And clothes me, as the lily springs In beauty from the ground. This is the hand that shaped my frame, And gave me pulse to beat; That bears me oft through flood and flame, Through tempest, cold, and heat. In death's dark valley though I stray, 'Twould there my steps attend; Guide with the staff my lonely way, And with the rod defend. May that dear hand uphold me still, Through life's uncertain race, To bring me to Thine holy hill, And to Thy dwelling-place.
