The glory of God in the morning is over it all --
The blue of the sky, and the pile of the fleecy white cloud,
From the sentinel mountains, so beautiful, stately, and tall,
To the song of the magpie, now trilling and calling aloud.
The glory of God in the morning is over it all
Ere the dew is yet dry, and the emerald slopes are a-blaze
With a million white gems, when the orchard leaves flutter and fall,
And the Earth is at peace in the Autumn's soft, wonderful days.
From the haze of the range. the stretch of the far forest trees,
The murmuring sound of the river's soft echoing fall,
The Earth is at peace in the laugh of the soft, sighing breeze --
The glory of God in the morning is over it all.
First published in The Bulletin, 6 August 1903
