Morning has broken, like the first morning.
Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird.
Praise for the singing, praise for the morning,
Praise for them springing fresh from the Word.
Sweet the rain's new fall, sunlight from heaven.
Like the first dewfall, on the first grass.
Praise for the sweetnes of the wet garden,
Sprung in completeness where His feet pass.
Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning.
Born of the one light Eden saw play.
Praise with elation, praise every morning;
God's recreation of the new day.
A fine old Gaelic tune - Bunessan - with words by Eleanor Farjeon (1881-1965); it's in both my Canadian Hymnals (Presbyterian and Untied Church(sic)). The organist hated it when I gave it the Cat Stevens trills.
I wonder where CS found it. I think it's one of the few he didn't write himself, but I could be wrong.