The Morning Star
H J Vine
Awake, my soul, nor slumber,
Though daylight tarries yet,
Though still proud men, be-nighted,
The Lord of all forget;
For when the hours are darkest
A light shines out afar
In solitary splendour—
The welcome Morning Star.
The watchers’ eyes are straining
To see the sign of day;
The night, storm-worn and troubled,
Retains its cheerless sway,
Obscuring the horizon,
As though from sight to bar
The harbinger of dawning—
The bright and Morning Star.
Its early beauty, beaming,
Joy to the watchman brings;
Glad herald ere the radiance
Of daybreak spreads its wings,
When tempests’ roar and thunder
Are stifled, with furious war,
And peace attendant follows
Jesus, the Morning Star.
For Thee we wait, Lord Jesus,
Thy voice we long to hear;
Our Hope, our Life, our Saviour,
coming must be near;
The watch is nearly ended.
Our hearts expectant are!
Oh, let Thy lustre cheer us,
Thou glorious Morning Star.