Still, Still with Thee

Still, still with thee, when purple morning breaketh,When the bird waketh, and the shadows flee;Fairer than morning, lovelier than the daylight,Dawns the sweet consciousness, I am with thee!

Alone with thee, amid the mystic shadows,The solemn hush of Nature newly born;Alone with thee in breathless adoration,In the calm dew and freshness of the morn.

Still, still with thee! As to each new-born morningA fresh and solemn splendour still is given,So doth this bless’d consciousness, awaking,Breathe, each day nearness unto thee and heaven.

When sinks the soul, subdued by toil, to slumber,Its closing eye looks up to thee in prayer,Sweet the repose beneath thy wings o'ershading.But sweeter still, to wake and find thee there.

So shall it be at last, in that bright morning,When the soul waketh, and life's shadows flee;Oh, in that hour, fairer than daylight dawning,Shall rise the glorious thought: I am with thee!