This is God's perfect day. It was not born
As first bright, probing fingers of the morn
Broke through. Nor will it end behind the rim
Of distant hills, nightcapped, as light grows dim.
Day is but rich unfoldment of His plan
To satisfy each righteous need of man.
Time cracks no whip as minutes tick away,
For only good is measured in God's day.
Put off your somber garments and rejoice!
For you who early listen for His voice
Will find no humdrum task, no drab routine,
But fresh approach to every changing scene.
Day has no bleak regrets, no future fears,
Nor mortal records of dissolving years.
Mind has dominion over time and space
And every concept limiting His grace.
This is God's perfect day. O let it be
A constant lodestar to reality!
