Still, still with Thee when purple morning breaketh,
When the tired waketh, and the shadows flee,
Fairer than morning, lovelier than the daylight,
Dawns the sweet consciousness, I am with Thee.
Alone with Thee, amid the seeming shadows,
The solemn hush of being, newly born,
Alone with Thee, in breathless adoration,
In the calm dew and freshness of the morn.
So shall it ever be in that bright morning,
When Divine sense bids every shadow flee,
And in that hour, fairer than daylight dawning,
Remains the glorious thought, I am with Thee.
It is at first an "unpleasant duty," to break our idols, or to see them broken. But they must every one go, every one be broken, crushed, ground to powder. It is difficult to say which is the harder,— to part with the material, fleshly idols, or with the mental. But in time we come to thank the person or persons, be they friends or enemies, who helped to break them.—"Marcia" In Sun And Voice.
