Long Beach—Tuesday Afternoon
Every single morning during my teenage years, the household was WOKEN by my mother’s piano playing, which always began with the hymn, ’Morning Has Broken.’
My mother was a scholar, and if one commented on the lovliness of this, in return she would passionately remind us of its French and Scottish origin, which was tedious to her young-uns. Now I am grateful.. and the words and tune ring through me frequently…there are no mysteries..not really.
And you are invited to conjure ‘Cat Stevens’ for the melody.
Morning has broken like the first morning
Blackbird has spoken like the first bird
Praise for the singing, praise for the morning
Praise for them springing fresh from the world
Sweet the rains new fall, sunlit from Heaven
Like the first dewfall on the first grass
Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden
Sprung in completeness where His feet pass
Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning
Born of the one light, Eden saw play
Praise with elation, praise every morning
God’s recreation of the new day
Morning has broken like the first morning
Blackbird has spoken like the first bird
Praise for the singing, praise for the morning
Praise for them springing fresh from the world
Spring is coming.
And even with the darkness in the world, there is beauty and light.