Morning

    Right thro' the Gates of Wrath

    I urge my way；

    Sweet Mercy leads me on

    With soft repentant moan：

    I see the break of day.

    The war of swords and spears，

    Melted by dewy tears，

    Exhales on high；

    The Sun is freed from fears，

    And with soft grateful tears

    Ascends the sky.