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The Morning Star



It is dawn. Sweetest breezes
Awake with the day,
While aloft in the heavens
The lark pipes his lay;
And with sweet trancing melody
Hails from afar,
The herald of morning
The fair Morning Star.
You may sing of the sweetness
Of dew in the morn;
Of the splendor and beauty
Of fields ripe with corn;
But sweetest the praise
Of the maid without par.
The light of our morning,
The fair Morning Star.
For she leads us, her children.
From Satan's ensnare;
And enlightens our pathway
With love and with care;
And the shade of our night
By a light without mar
Is dispelled, when we gaze
On the fair Morning Star.

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