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In the hush of early morning, When the breeze is whisp'ring low, There's a voice that gently calls me, And its accents well I know; Here I am, O Savior, waiting, For Thy will alone is mine; This is all my crown and glory: I am Thine, and only Thine. When the noontide falls upon me,
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In the hush of early morning, When the breeze is whisp'ring low, There's a voice that gently calls me, And its accents well I know; Here I am, O Savior, waiting, For Thy will alone is mine; This is all my crown and glory: I am Thine, and only Thine.
When the noontide falls upon me, With its fervid light'ning ray, There's a voice that divinely earnest, Bids me work while it is day; Open, Savior, now before me All Thy will for me to do; Only help me, watching, working, Still to keep my Lord in view.
As the dewy shades steal downward O'er the earth at evening mild, There's a voice I love that whispers, “After labor, rest my child;” O my Savior, loving, tender, Help me to account it blest Thus to work within Thy vineyard, Till Thou callest me to rest.