What secret hand, at morning-light,
By stealth, unseals mine eye,
Draws back the curtain of the night,
And opens earth and sky?
'Tis thine, my God! the same that kept
My resting hours from harm;
No ill came nigh me, for I slept
Beneath the Almighty's arm.
'Tis Thine,--my daily bread that brings,
Like manna scatter'd round:
And clothes me, as the lily springs,
In beauty from the ground.
This is the hand that shaped my frame,
And gave my pulse to beat;
That bare me oft through flood and flame,
Through tempest, cold, and heat.
In death's dark valley, though I stray,
'Twould there my stops attend,
Guide with Thy staff my lonely way,
And with Thy rod defend.
May that dear hand uphold me still,
Through life's uncertain race,
To bring me to Thy holy Hill,
And to Thy dwelling place!
Sacred Poems and Hymns
James Montgomery (b. Irvine, Ayrshire, Scotland, 1771; d. Sheffield, Yorkshire, England, 1854), the son of Moravian parents who died on a West Indies mission field while he was in boarding school, Montgomery inherited a strong religious bent, a passion for missions, and an independent mind. He was editor of the Sheffield Iris (1796-1827), a newspaper that sometimes espoused radical causes. Montgomery was imprisoned briefly when he printed a song that celebrated the fall of the Bastille and again when he described a riot in Sheffield that reflected unfavorably on a military commander. He also protested against slavery, the lot of boy chimney sweeps, and lotteries. Associated with Christians of various persuasions, Montgomery supported missio… Go to person page >
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