The magic of the morning

He may paint the morning purple
to display His majesty,
He can tinge it with a glory
that the dullest of eye can see.

He reflects it from the mountains
that were sculpted by His hand,
and it guilds the plains and prairies
as it spreads across the land.

He may emphasize its beauty
with a silver-misted shroud,
Or conceal its flaming splendor
in a somber cloak of cloud-

But the slightest hint of morning
breaking through the longest night
Fills the darkness with the prospect
of a future that is bright;

And the sunshine of its promise
coaxes flowers from the sod,
For the magic of the morning
bears the signature of God.

By Bud Morris