WATCHING FOR THE MORNING.
"My soul waiteth for the Lord more than they that watch for the morning."
I am watching for the morning;
The night is long and dreary;
I have waited for the dawning
Till I am sad and weary;
I am watching for the morning,
When the sons of God shall show,
All their beauteous adorning
So dimly seen below. I'm a stranger and sojourner,
A pilgrim on the earth;
A sick and lonely mourner,
Few own my noble birth;
But I'm watching for the morning;
Oh, when will morning come—
And I change the world's rude scorning
For the fellowship of home? They call me strange and gloomy,
But oh! they little dream,
Of the hopes that fill my bosom,
For I am not what I seem—
I am watching for the morning
When He who for me died,
In triumphant state returning,
Shall take me to his side. They often find me weeping
When I cannot tell them why,
For they know not the deep meaning
Of my spirit's sympathy;
I am watching for the morning
Of a bright and glorious day
That shall hush creation's groaning
And wipe her tears away. The earnest expectation
Of all nature is abroad;
Waiting the revelation
Of the real sons of God;
And I'm watching for the morning
That shall set the captive free,
And shall change the chains of bondage
Into glorious liberty. I will get me to the mountain
Till the shadows flee away;
I will ask of all the watchmen
For the tokens of the day.
I am watching for the morning,
The night is almost gone;
I hear the note of warning,
I will hie me to my home.