Misty Morning

An early morning walk in the southern Appalachians immerses me in wonder. The sun hasn't yet risen over the surrounding mountains, their tops mostly shrouded by fog. Dripping from an overnight rain, trees and wildflowers wear muted colors that gradually intensify as daylight strengthens. A few songbirds twitter tentatively, then swell into a chorus.

A breeze stirs and the mist lifts against the brightening sky. Moments before the solar orb peeks above the treeline, the sky breaks into intense streaks of orange, pink, and gold.

The scene transports me back to my childhood, when I watched misty, suspenseful sunrises above coastal hills and dramatic sunsets over the Pacific Ocean.

My favorite hymn soulfully describes the effect:

High o'er the lonely hills
Black turns to grey,
Birdsong the valley fills,
Mists fold away;
Grey wakes to green again,
Beauty is seen again,
Gold and serene again
Dawneth the day.

So, o'er the hills of life,
Stormy, forlorn,
Out of the cloud and strife
Sunrise is born;
Swift grows the light for us;
Ended is night for us;
Soundless and bright for us
Breaketh God's morn.

Hear we no beat of drums,
Fanfare nor cry,
When Christ the herald comes
Quietly nigh;
Splendour he makes on earth;
Colour awakes on earth;
Suddenly breaks on earth
Light from the sky.

Bid then farewell to sleep:
Rise up and run!
What though the hill be steep?
Strength's in the sun.
Now shall you find at last
Night's left behind at last,
And for mankind at last
Day has begun!

—From the 1940 Episcopal hymnal
Words: Jan Struther, 1931
Tune: Dawn, by Thomas H. Ingham, 1931

You can listen to it here.

#mountainsunrise #RiseUp #mistymorning

Image by kjpargeter on Freepik