Morning Has Broken

Any time of day either shines in the glow of sunlight or dims with the blessing of rain. Whichever way, we bask or soak in the glory of God's grace.

For me, however, the most glorious time of day is when the morning breaks, minus the rain. The night quietly leaves and daylight eagerly comes to rouse and keep us going. This in-between hour is when I choose to walk, usually alone in the first 30 minutes, then met by others in the next.

This is also when I try hard to imagine that very first morning a long time ago when the Lord almighty created the world , but can't. For no imagination can ever recreate that very first day when our world was made.

What I am sure about, though, is that when the sun kisses the last of darkness, there are similarities, as captured in words and notes by this old Christian hymn, which I also often sing to praise the God who makes me experience the breaking of morn:   

Morning has broken, like the first morning.
Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird.
Praise for the singing, praise for the morning,
Praise for them springing fresh from the Word.

Sweet the rain's new fall, sunlight from heaven.
Like the first dew fall, on the first grass.
Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden,
Sprung in completeness where His feet pass.

Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning.
Born of the one light Eden saw play.
Praise with elation, praise every morning;
God's recreation of the new day.

Morning has broken, like the first morning.
Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird.
Praise for the singing, praise for the morning,
Praise for them springing fresh from the Word.

(This was set to the tune of a Gaelic song, Bunessan; written by Eleanor Farjeon in 1931. Cat Stevens popularized it 40 years later.)

Photo: by Karen