Full Lyrics
’Tis dawn, the lark is singing;
Sweet chorister of morn;
And in yon dell are ringing
Soft notes from every thorn.
’Tis eve, and to the sky
The lark doth send his hymn;
And joyous melody,
Breaks from yon valley dim.
The birds, they seem to send
Their sweetest notes on high,
For benefits that blend
Their being with the sky.
And Oh. may I bestow
My first, last, thought on heaven;
And may my bosom glow
With thanks each morn and even!
