Each morning mercy, come what may,
A blustery cold or sunny day-
Each morning mercy finds his way to me.
And though I scarce would turn him out,
For rare the morning finds no need,
Much less to doubt his work to do.
Bereft of him, ne'er make it through
A day without his mercy speed.
I love the morning mercy new.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem