Still with Thee, when purple morning breaketh,
When the bird waketh and the shadows flee;
Fairer than morning, lovelier than daylight,
Dawns the sweet consciousness, I am with Thee.
Still with Thee, when sinks the soul, subdued by toil, to slumber,
Its closing eye looks up to Thee in prayer;
The sweet the repose beneath Thy wings o’ershading,
But sweeter still to wake and find Thee there.
Shall it be at last, when that bright morning breaketh,
When the soul waketh, and life’s shadows flee;
Fairer than the morning, lovelier than daylight,
Shall rise the glorious thought;
Still with Thee, when the bright morning breaketh,
When the soul waketh and life’s shadows flee,
I am with Thee.
–Harriet Beecher Stowe (1811-1896)
bluebird of bitterness