Perpetual Praise Poem by John Bowring

When wakened by Thy voice of power,
The hour of morning beams in light,
My voice shall sing that morning hour,
And Thee who mad'st that hour so bright.


The morning strengthens into noon,
Earth's fairest beauties shine more fair;
And noon and morning shall attune
My grateful heart to praise and prayer.


When 'neath the evening's western gate
The sun's retiring rays are hid,
My joy shall be to meditate,
Even as the pious patriarch did.


As twilight wears a darker hue,
And gathering night creation dims,
The twilight and the midnight too
Shall have their harmonies and hymns.


So shall sweet thoughts, and thoughts sublime,
My constant inspirations be;
And every shifting scene of time
Reflect, my God! a light from Thee.