The Morning Comes...

The darkness blots beneath its reach

Earth’s swell of pasture, hill and beach

The field that bears each season-sweep

Fades out into ebony deep

The pallid moon, a soundless wraith

Above charcoal landscapes of faith

And though the darkness steals our sight

Though faith alone must be our light

We know, in spite of what we see

No night is for eternity

And just beyond this onyx scope

Glimmers the morning-tide of hope

Even the void of darkest dark

Is pierced by nothing but a spark

And by and by the blackest hour

Softens beneath a keener power

Of mercy whispers; night succumbs

To heaven’s rule; the morning comes

© Janet Martin

The morning comes

No night remains

The Light of faith

Succors, sustains

And by and by

Shalom, shalom

We lift our eyes

The morning comes…

 They were also to stand every morning to thank and praise the LORD. They were to do the same in the evening 1 Chron. 23:30