Still, still with thee, when purple morning breaketh, When the bird waketh, and the shadows flee; Fairer than morning, lovelier than daylight, Dawns the sweet consiousness, I am with thee. So shall it be at last, in that bright morning, When the soul waketh, and life's shadows flee; O in that hour, fairer than daylight dawning, Shall rise the glorious thought, I am with thee! words by Harriet Beecher Stowe.