Morning Hymn (Bless thou the Lord), by Grace Aguilar (ca. 1830s)

Contributor(s):

Aharon N. Varady (editing/transcription) and Grace Aguilar

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14 May 2023 under the Creative Commons Zero (CC 0) Universal license a Public Domain dedication

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Morning Baqashot

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waking, hymns of creation, תחינות teḥinot, 56th century A.M., English vernacular prayer, teḥinot in English, paraliturgical modeh ani, 19th century C.E., Gratitude

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Contribute a translation	Source (English)
	Morning hymn.
	Bless thou the Lord, oh my soul, bless thou the Lord!
	Nature, glorious nature! arise thou from the sleep of night, and bless and magnify the great name of thy merciful Creator!
	Ye little birds, raise your voices in the universal praise!
	The works of Thy hand, oh God, animate and inanimate nature, shall glorify Thy name.
	Night has withdrawn her sombre yet refreshing veil, and light and gladness Thou hast graciously permitted again to dawn.
	And whether the sun shines forth in radiant splendour, illumining all things with its glorious light; or the gentle, refreshing rain falls mercifully to moisten the parched and arid ground; or the mighty wind cometh forth at Thy nod, to remove all impurities and imperfections from the air we breathe; still will nature shoot forth Thy glory, oh mighty God; still will Thy omnipotent hand be blessed for the mercy it poureth upon us below.
	All speak of Thy mercy — the sun, the rain, the wind, are Thy instruments, oh God, and as such do they ever bring mercy and goodness with them.
	Oh, how my eager soul longs to pour forth a hymn of thanksgiving to Thee, for blessings, oh Lord, Thou hast vouchsafed me, greater far than many of my fellow creatures! Thou hast bestowed on me kind parents, while many are desolate orphans. Thou hast given me brothers, and many stand alone; and food and shelter from the scorching sun, or falling rain, or howling wind, and many beg from door to door for a scanty subsistence, or starve within their miserable homes, unpitied and unsuccoured.
	Oh, Lord my God, what have I done to merit greater mercies, greater blessings, than they; and yet my sinful heart repines and murmurs, if my wishes are not gratified, my inordinate desires all fulfilled. Oh let not the remembrance of Thy unnumbered mercies pass from my mind. Oh let me ever remember all I owe to Thee. Bestow on me the gift of gratitude, that will enable me to utter forth Thy praises, sing aloud Thy glory.
	Another night hath passed away, and again I wake in health, and my senses lend their aid to give enjoyment.
	Oh, when I think on those whose eyes are ever closed on Thy glorious works, who can never behold or trace Thy footsteps, oh God, on the fertile earth, on the stupendous mountains, in the roaring ocean, in the far-stretching heavens, who cannot see Thy hand in the smallest flower that decks the emerald sod, when I think on them, how can I praise and glorify Thy name enough, for granting me a lot so far superior? I can see, I can trace Thy wondrous hand, oh blessed be Thy name, oh Lord, praised and glorified and magnified, for such abundant mercy.
	And when I think of those bereft of speech and hearing, who can never join in raising their voice to bless Thy name, who can never give vent to their feelings in words of joy and thanksgiving, who are debarred from hearing the voice of those they love, of listening to the sweet, mild converse of their parents, sisters, friends, who can never feel their souls glow when a sacred strain of music soundeth, hallowing and blessing Thee, and I can speak and hear while they are plunged in endless silence, oh Lord my God, all-merciful, almighty, how can I render thanks sufficiently to Thee, for these unnumbered blessings; how can my feeble voice utter them aloud, when the gratitude that filleth my heart preventeth words?
	Oh, Thou art my God, and I will praise Thee, and exalt Thee for ever, with my whole soul, and my whole heart, and I will give thanks unto Thee, oh God, for Thou art good, and Thy mercy endureth for ever!
	Thou hast given me blessings I deserve not. Thou hast given me mercies of which I am unworthy; far above many of my fellow creatures hast Thou blessed me; oh let me still feel how unworthy I am of such goodness, and each morning bless and glorify Thy name.
	Blessed art Thou, oh Lord, my God, now and for ever and evermore.
	Hallelujah! Praise the Lord!

“Morning hymn (Bless thou the Lord)” by Grace Aguilar was published posthumously by her mother Sarah Aguilar in Essays and Miscellanies (1853), in the section “Sacred Communings,” pp. 181-183. In the UK edition of Sacred Communings (1853) the prayer appears with the incipit “Bless ye the Lord” with other small variations of spelling and punctuation on pages 105-107.

Source(s)

. Creative Commons Public Domain Dedication . 1.0 . Universal .

“Morning Hymn (Bless thou the Lord), by Grace Aguilar (ca. 1830s)” is shared through the Open Siddur Project with a Creative Commons Public Domain Dedication 1.0 Universal license.

Aharon N. Varady (editing/transcription)

Aharon Varady (M.A.J.Ed./JTSA Davidson) is a volunteer transcriber for the Open Siddur Project. If you find any mistakes in his transcriptions, please let him know. Shgiyot mi yavin; Ministarot naqeni שְׁגִיאוֹת מִי־יָבִין; מִנִּסְתָּרוֹת נַקֵּנִי "Who can know all one's flaws? From hidden errors, correct me" (Psalms 19:13). If you'd like to directly support his work, please consider donating via his Patreon account. (Varady also translates prayers and contributes his own original work besides serving as the primary shammes of the Open Siddur Project and its website, opensiddur.org.)

Grace Aguilar

Grace Aguilar (2 June 1816 – 16 September 1847) was an English novelist, poet and writer on Jewish history and religion. Although she had been writing since childhood, much of her work was published posthumously. Among those are her best known works, the novels Home Influence and A Mother's Recompense. Aguilar was the eldest child of Sephardic Jewish refugees from Portugal who settled in the London Borough of Hackney. An early illness resulted in her being educated by her parents, especially her mother, who taught her the tenets of Judaism. Later, her father taught the history of Spanish and Portuguese Jews during his own bout with tuberculosis which had led the family to move to the English coast. After surviving the measles at the age of 19, she began to embark on a serious writing career, even though her physical health never completely recovered. Aguilar's debut was an anonymous collection of poems, The Magic Wreath of Hidden Flowers. Three years later she translated Isaac Orobio de Castro's Israel Defended into English at her father's behest. Later her The Spirit of Judaism drew interest and sales in both Britain and the United States after being published in Philadelphia by Isaac Leeser. He added a preface to the work elucidating his differences with her, the first of many clashes her work would have with mainstream Jewish thought. In the 1840s her novels began to attract regular readers, and Aguilar moved back to London with her parents. Despite her success, she and her mother still had to operate a boys' Hebrew school to stay solvent, which she resented for the time and energy it took from her writing. In 1847, she became ill again with a spinal paralysis which she did not let prevent her from visiting her brother in Frankfurt. Her health worsened and she died there that September.

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ויהי נעם אדני אלהינו עלינו ומעשה ידינו כוננה עלינו ומעשה ידינו כוננהו "May the pleasantness of אדֹני our elo’ah be upon us; may our handiwork be established for us — our handiwork, may it be established." –Psalms 90:17