Father of rosy day,
No more thy clouds of incense rise;
But waking flow'rs,
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Father of rosy day,
No more thy clouds of incense rise;
But waking flow'rs,
At morning hours,
Give out their sweets to meet thee in the skies.

Whence are thy beams, O sun! thy everlasting light? Thou comest
forth, in thy awful beauty; the stars hide read more

Whence are thy beams, O sun! thy everlasting light? Thou comest
forth, in thy awful beauty; the stars hide themselves in the sky;
the moon, cold and pale, sinks in the western waves. But thou,
thyself, movest alone.

Thou shalt sleep in thy clouds, careless of the voice of the
morning.

Thou shalt sleep in thy clouds, careless of the voice of the
morning.

The sun shineth upon the dunghill and is not corrupted.

The sun shineth upon the dunghill and is not corrupted.

When the Sun
Clearest shineth
Serenest in the heaven,
Quickly are obscured
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When the Sun
Clearest shineth
Serenest in the heaven,
Quickly are obscured
All over the earth
Other stars.

Out of the solar walk and Heaven's highway.

Out of the solar walk and Heaven's highway.

Such words fall to often on our cold and careless ears with the
triteness of long familiarity; but to read more

Such words fall to often on our cold and careless ears with the
triteness of long familiarity; but to Octavia . . . they seemed
to be written in sunbeams.

The glorious lamp of heaven, the radiant sun,
Is Nature's eye.

The glorious lamp of heaven, the radiant sun,
Is Nature's eye.

The great duties of life are written with a sunbeam.

The great duties of life are written with a sunbeam.