LXIIIa. The Morning of a Lord's-Day

1 Early, my GOD, without delay,
I haste to seek thy face;
My thirsty spirit faints away,
Without thy cheearing grace.

2 So pilgrims on the scorching sand,
Beneath a burning sky,
Long for a cooling stream at hand,
And they must drink or die.

3 I’ve seen thy glory and thy pow'r
Thro' all thy temple shine;
My GOD, repeat that heav’nly hour,
That vision so divine.

4 Not all the blessings of a feast
Can please my soul so well
As when thy richer grace I taste,
And in thy presence dwell.

5 Not life itself, with all her joys,
Can my best passions move,
Or raise so high my chearful voice,
As thy forgiving love.

6 Thus, 'till my last expiring day,
I’ll bless my GOD and King;
Thus will I lift my hands to pray,
And tune my lips to sing.

Text Information
First Line: Early, my God, without delay
Title: The Morning of a Lord's-Day
Meter: Common Metre
Language: English
Publication Date: 1780
Scripture:
Tune Information
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