When, stream­ing from the east­ern skies,
The morn­ing light sa­lutes mine eyes,
O sun of right­eous­ness di­vine,
On me with beams of mer­cy shine;
Chase the dark clouds of sin away
And turn my dark­ness in­to day.

When to Heav’ns great and glo­ri­ous king
My morn­ing sac­ri­fice I bring
And, griev­ing o’er my guilt and shame,
Ask mer­cy, Sav­ior, in Thy name,
My cons­cience sprin­kle with Thy blood
And be my ad­vo­cate with God.

As ev­ery day Thy mer­cy spares
Will bring its tri­als and its cares;
O Sav­ior, till my life shall end,
Be Thou my coun­sel­or and my friend.
Teach me Thy pre­cepts, all di­vine,
And be Thy pure ex­am­ple mine.

When pain trans­fix­es ev­ery part,
Or lang­uor set­tles at the heart;
When on my bed, dis­eased, op­pressed,
I turn, and sigh, and long for rest;
O great Phy­si­cian! see my grief,
And grant Thy ser­vant sweet re­lief.

Should po­ver­ty’s de­struct­ive blow
Lay all my world­ly com­forts low;
And nei­ther help nor hope ap­pear,
My steps to guide, my heart to cheer;
Lord, pi­ty and sup­ply my need,
For Thou, on earth, wast poor in­deed.

Should pro­vi­dence pro­fuse­ly pour
Its va­ried bless­ings in my store;
O keep me from the ills that wait
On such a seem­ing pros­per­ous state:
From hurt­ful pass­ions set me free,
And hum­bly may I walk with Thee.

When each day’s scenes and la­bors close
And wea­ried na­ture seeks re­pose,
With par­don­ing mer­cy, rich­ly blest,
Guard me, my Sav­ior, while I rest;
And as each morn­ing’s sun shall rise,
Oh, lead me on­ward to the skies!

And at my life’s last set­ting sun,
My con­flict o’er, my la­bor done,
Jesus, Thy heav’n­ly ra­di­ance shed
To cheer and bless my dy­ing bed
And from death’s gloom my spir­it raise
To see Thy face and sing Thy praise.