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Cat Stevens – “Morning Has Broken”

The Tragic Story Of Cat Stevens

About the Song

Cat Stevens, a singer-songwriter whose career traversed folk, rock, and spiritual exploration, gifted the world with “Morning Has Broken” in 1971. This song, originally a hymn with lyrics by Eleanor Farjeon, became a cornerstone of Stevens’ album “Teaser and the Firecat” thanks to his beautiful arrangement and heartfelt performance. “Morning Has Broken” transcends its religious roots to become a universal meditation on the wonder and gratitude for a new day.

The song opens with a simple yet evocative statement: “Morning has broken, like the first morning.” These words paint a picture of a pristine, untouched dawn, a moment of pure creation. Cat Stevens’ gentle vocals, accompanied by the now-iconic piano melody by Rick Wakeman, create a sense of awe and reverence.

“Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird.” The lyrics shift focus to the natural world, highlighting the simple act of a bird’s song as a sign of life awakening. Each element – the morning light, the bird’s song – is celebrated for its inherent beauty.

The chorus, delivered with a soft sincerity, expresses the core sentiment of the song: “Praise for the singing! Praise for the morning! Praise for the springing fresh from the earth!” It’s a call to appreciate the everyday miracles that surround us, the gift of a new day, and the constant renewal of life on Earth.

There’s a sense of childlike wonder woven into the lyrics. The world seems fresh and new, full of possibility. Lines like “Light in the tree-top, leaves in the breeze” capture the simple joys of nature’s beauty.

While the song originated as a hymn, “Morning Has Broken” doesn’t preach or proselytize. The message is universal – a call to appreciate the beauty and wonder that surrounds us each day. It’s a reminder to slow down, to take a breath, and to find gratitude in the simple things.

“Morning Has Broken” has become a beloved classic, covered by countless artists and featured in countless films and television shows. Its enduring appeal lies in its ability to capture the quiet joy of a new day and the sense of renewal it brings. It’s a song that leaves you feeling peaceful, hopeful, and ready to embrace the possibilities that lie ahead.Cat Stevens' 10 greatest songs, ranked - Smooth

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Lyrics: Morning Has Broken

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 WorldSweet the rain’s new fall, sunlit from Heaven
Like the first dew fall, on the first grass
Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden
Sprung in completeness where His feet passMine is the sunlight, mine is the morning
Born of the One Light Eden saw play
Praise with elation, praise every morning
God’s re-creation of the new dayMorning 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 World

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What if the true miracle of Elvis Presley was never his dazzling face, his electric swagger, or the crown that history pressed upon his head? What if his greatest gift was something entirely unseen, living solely in the sound of his breath against a microphone? He possessed a voice of astonishing alchemy—capable of whipping an arena into a frenzy of wild, delirious joy one moment, only to strip a room down to absolute, breathless silence with a single, heartbreaking note. It was an instrument that carried the full spectrum of human endurance: the raw ache of loneliness, the quiet devotion of faith, the fever of first love, and the heavy sorrow of a broken heart, all articulated in ways mere language could never touch. Nearly half a century after his voice fell silent, millions still turn to his records and feel a strange, profound stirring they can’t quite name. Because when Elvis sang, he wasn’t just entertaining a crowd. He possessed the rare, uncanny magic of a soul looking straight into yours—making you feel, with every syllable, that he understood the deepest, quietest corners of your heart.

What cosmic alchemy creates a face so striking that, nearly half a century after he drew his last breath, strangers can still look at an old portrait and feel their hearts instantly surrender? Elvis Presley possessed a rare, breathtaking symmetry that defied mere description—anchored by those unforgettable blue eyes, faultless bone structure, and a smile that could disarm a room in a heartbeat. He held a paradoxical grace, effortlessly projecting both commanding power and profound vulnerability all at once. Yet his true magnetism lay far beyond the physical. Beneath the legendary looks lived an aching, radiant warmth—a quiet tenderness shadowing his confidence, and a subtle, lingering melancholy that often lingered in his eyes even when his lips were smiling. He looked like a dream the world had conjured, yet his deep, unmistakably human fragility made you feel as though he wasn’t just an icon to be admired from afar, but someone your soul already knew and deeply loved.

How does a man who laid down his microphone nearly half a century ago continue to claim the hearts of generations born decades after his final curtain? Elvis Presley drew his last breath on August 16, 1977, at only forty-two, yet his story refused to end with a gravestone in the Meditation Garden. Instead, something miraculous happened in his absence: the myth deepened, the music found new sanctuaries, and millions of souls who never lived a single day under his living sun learned to love him with a fierce, personal devotion. Every year, modern pilgrims still trace their way to the gates of Graceland, leaving flowers, letters, and tears on stone, while his voice continues to drift from bedroom turntables and digital screens into the ears of youth who weren’t even glimmers in their parents’ eyes when he passed. Yet perhaps the most poignant, quiet tragedy of all is that Elvis never knew. In his loneliest hours, wrestling with the crushing weight of fame and a life slipping through his fingers, he could never have imagined that long after he was gone, unborn generations would still be whispering his name, aching for a man they never touched, and keeping his brilliant, immortal spirit alive.

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Lorrie Morgan saved the card Keith Whitley gave her at the Nashville airport for her flight home. When she finally opened it, her husband was dead. It was early May 1989. Lorrie was heading to Alaska to promote her first RCA album, while Keith was enjoying the strongest run of his career. Just weeks earlier, “I’m No Stranger to the Rain” had become his third consecutive No. 1. At home, success had brought little reassurance. Keith had struggled with alcohol for years. A period of sobriety beginning in 1987 lasted about six months. Lorrie later described the fear surrounding his drinking as living with a ticking time bomb. In her 1997 memoir, she recalled tying her leg to his while they slept so she would know if he got up to drink. During her trip, he began drinking again that weekend. On Tuesday morning, May 9, his brother-in-law, Lane Palmer, visited the house in Goodlettsville. They drank coffee and discussed golf and lunch. Palmer left around 8:30 a.m. When he returned roughly an hour later, Keith was lying on the bed, fully dressed and unconscious. The medical examiner determined that he died from acute alcohol poisoning. Traveling back to Nashville, Lorrie read the card she had set aside. She later said its words left her feeling that Keith had been trying to tell her something—a feeling she was left to carry without the chance to ask him.

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