LONG time in sloth, long time in sin,
Contented with thy dark estate
Hast thou abode, O soul of mine;
Now dawns the morning, fair though late,
Her sunny tides are sweeping in.
Thy light has come; arise and shine!
The sheathèd bud which all night long
Has folded close its purple up
Upon the morning-glory vine;
At the first rose-flush, the first song,
Unrolls its petals, rears its cup,
And, light being come, makes haste to shine.
It cannot clasp the whole bright day,
Nor the wide-brimming sea of dew
Within its curve exact and fine.
Of countless beams a single ray,
One little freshening sip or two,
It takes, and so is glad to shine.
Make ready likewise, O my soul!
God’s blessed day has dawned; partake!
Anoint thy head with oil and wine;
From the great sum, the mighty whole,
Thy little crumb and portion break,
And, giving thanks, arise and shine!