Early morn’ I shall not mourn.

Early morn’ I shall not mourn.

Be not forlorn;

I’m here with thee.

Through summer’s heat—a steady beat—

where two may meet

beneath a tree

as sun greets shade: Light’s serenade,

it ne’er shall fade.

Tho’ days may pass,

let darkness fall; mere curtain call!

Wild and tall,

the greenest grass

shall ever grow. For true hearts know

our Father’s Flow

his River free.

Never-ending garden tending,

praise ascending:

Let it be . . .

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