Morning
by Joyce Reid

Morning is breaking over the mountain.
Sunlight is spilling over its peaks.
Soaring and dashing like a gold fountain,
Flowing from heaven, wordless it speaks.

Morning is breaking over the meadow,
Open expanse where grass ever sways,
Waltzing and dancing, waked by the first glow,
Ever and anon tossed in great waves.

Morning is breaking over the valley;
Much that was shadowed now bathes in light.
Crystal clear singing, birds beyond tally,
Swooping and diving, grace heaven in flight.

Morning is breaking over the ocean
E’en though the sun is hid by the clouds.
Breakers are crashing, perpetual motion;
Miles of water, salty mist shrouds.

Morning is breaking over Creation,
God’s great handiwork we now survey:
Reminder of mercy for all the nations,
Sunbeams of blessing, shimmering grace.