'T IS morning on the sunny sod,
Where lingering footsteps late have trod;
'T is morning on the melting snow,
That shrouds the graves of those below;
'T is morning to each sprouting thing,
That greenly smiles because 't is spring;
'T is morning on the marble stones,
That designate their owners' bones;
'T is morning to the young and fair,
That walk, and laugh, and loiter there
Above let spring in brightness glow,
A brighter morning smiles below.
There is a beam, that breaks upon
The lone forsaken buried one;
And, clearer than that dawning ray,
Which gives the first sweet light of day,
Sheds on the Christian's soul a light
To which the noonday sun is night;
And shows the path his Saviour trod,
When, rising, he returned to God.