Twelfth Sunday after Trinity

When the Summer Morning breaking
Calls to birds and boughs and breeze,
And the breath of their awaking
Whispers through the tops of trees,
(Day's first footsteps, soft and light,
Falling on the ravish'd ear,)
'Tis a perfect pure delight
Simply to sit still, and hear.

When the Summer Evening closing,
In the shade which twilight makes,
Heart on heart in love reposing,
Heart with heart communion takes;
Pouring out, with boundless measure,
Thoughts and feelings each to each;
O how priceless is the pleasure
Of the blessed power of speech!

Thoughtful souls, while grateful musing,
Cannot fail in such employ
To recall, Whose gifts they're using
In those tranquil hours of joy;
We have naught on earth our own,
All thro' tender mercies come;
'Tis through God's good love alone
We are neither deaf nor dumb.

Yet on mortals so affected
We more pity could not take.
Than the Angels feel, dejected
For our desolation's sake:
They a world of beauty round us
Watch, with wond'ring eye and ear,
Tho' its joy hath never found us,
And its voice we cannot hear.

Light and love in mazes moving,
Pulses, beating from the heart
Of the Father, the All-loving,
Searching life thro' every part:
If we would but let them reach us —
Sweeter are than aught that dies,
If we would but let them teach us —
Might prepare us for the skies.

God is ever near us, guiding
By unseen but certain ways,
In His Providence providing
Fires for nights, and clouds for days:
Yet we feel not we are near Him,
With Him no communion hold,
Speak not to Him, do not hear Him,
Love's so dead, and Faith so cold.

Blessed Saviour! lay Thy finger
Upon every ear and tongue,
Till, in one Love's music linger,
By the other praise be sung:
With Thine ' Ephphatha ' draw near,
With Thy touch our silence break,
Make the heart that's deaf to hear,
And the tongue that's dumb to speak.