Still, Still with Thee

STILL, still with Thee, when purple morning breaketh,

When the bird waketh and the shadows flee;

Fairer than morning, lovilier than 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 to Thee, as to each new-born morning,

A fresh and solemn splendor still is giv'n,

So does this blessed consciousness awaking,

Breathe each day nearness unto Thee and heav'n.

So shall it be at last in that bright morning,

When the soul waketh, and life's shadows flee;

O in that hour, fairer than daylight dawning,

Shall rise the glorious thought I am with Thee.

Harriet Beecher Stowe