Song

Have you seen the stars at morning,
How they blend with rising day,
Paling still and still adorning
All the morn with their decay ;
Paling, blinking,

Coyly winking,
While the gold usurps the grey ?

So the fancies of the heathen,
Brightest stars of heathen night,
Slowly of their reign bereaven.
Lose themselves in Gospel light.
Stars of warning

Melt in morning.
End their task and bid good night.