Blesséd art Thou Lord God of the silences
When all the world lies hushed and the heart is still,
When the weary soul has given up its will
And the busy mind has lowered its defenses.
Blesséd art Thou Lord God of the dewlapp’d morning
When the lark trills his joy to the golden sun
That leaps exultant his daily course to run
While the meadows and the trees break forth singing.
Blesséd art Thou Lord God of each breaking day
When your whispering voice thunders forth your love
To all who are open to your descending Dove;
Who recognize your voice and gladly pray.
Blesséd art Thou Lord God my heavenly King
As the world awakes, to Thee with joy I sing.
When all the world lies hushed and the heart is still,
When the weary soul has given up its will
And the busy mind has lowered its defenses.
Blesséd art Thou Lord God of the dewlapp’d morning
When the lark trills his joy to the golden sun
That leaps exultant his daily course to run
While the meadows and the trees break forth singing.
Blesséd art Thou Lord God of each breaking day
When your whispering voice thunders forth your love
To all who are open to your descending Dove;
Who recognize your voice and gladly pray.
Blesséd art Thou Lord God my heavenly King
As the world awakes, to Thee with joy I sing.
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