When nighttime’s clutch yields to the touch
Of soft chartreuse and silver-gray
When ebony tranquility
Unveils the shades of a new day
When morning spills across the hills
We grasp the tools of our trade
As we rejoice with grateful voice
In this new day the Lord has made
When onyx space brims with new grace
And darkness-drenched horizons gleam
As morning light dispels the night
Beneath hope’s benevolent beam
When errors of our tainted love
Into history’s crypt are laid
We raise our voice, praise and rejoice
In this new day the Lord has made
© Janet Martin
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