On the morn of cre­ation, the voice of the Lord
Brought out from con­fu­sion the dawn­ing of light;
In in­fi­nite wis­dom Om­n­ipo­tence wrought,
And mar­vels re­vealed, by the arm of His might.

God spake and the sun­light gleamed ov­er the world;
By His won­der­ful pow­er the dark­ness had fled;
Where cha­os once reigned through lim­it­less space
Glad rays of sweet sun­shine were peace­ful­ly shed.

And thus the dark sha­dows of na­ture’s new birth
Receded in si­lence, and splen­dor was there.
The touch of the Mas­ter be­decked the new earth,
And grass­es and blos­soms made frag­rant the air.

Again spake the Migh­ty, the all-wise Cre­at­or,
And Lu­na arose in her grand­eur on high;
He ut­tered His voice, and stars in the heav­ens
Shone sweetly like jewels that spangled the sky.

From the mosses and ferns and the tiniest spray,
The dewdrops of morning grew diamond and gem,
And the cloudlets were bathed by the orb of the day,
As a halo of glory gleamed brightly from them.

At the mandate of God came the beasts of the plain,
And the light finny tribes, which play in the sea,
The prairie, the forest, the vast rolling main,
And the beautiful birds with their sweet melody.

As the sun was reclining o’er ocean and land,
At the voice of the Mas­ter in beau­ty man stood,
In in­no­cent glad­ness he came from His hand,
And all that God made He pro­nounced ve­ry good.

Mrs. Al­ice A. Harp­er, Lan­sin­gburg, Mich[igan]
The Signs of the Times, May 6, 1897