The Christian Year
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The opening
Morning.
His compassions fail not. They are new every morning.
Lament. iii. 22, 23.
Hues of the rich unfolding morn, That, ere the glorious sun be born, By some soft touch invisible Around his path are taught to swell;—
Thou rustling breeze so fresh and gay, That dancest forth at opening day, And brushing by with joyous wing, Wakenest each little leaf to sing;—
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- The words
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