How beautiful the morning,
When summer days are long;
O, we will rise betimes and hear
The wild-bird's happy song--
For when the sun pours down his ray
The bird will cease to sing;
She'll seek the cool and silent shade,
And sit with folded wing.
Up in the morning early--
'Tis Nature's gayest hour!
There's pearls of dew upon the grass
And fragrance on the flower.
Up in the morning early,
And we will bound abroad,
And fill our hearts with melody,
And raise our songs to God.
