THE DAY GOD MADE.
Doversdale-Warrington-Simeon.
1 Sweet is the work, my God, my King,
To praise thy name, give thanks and sing;
To show thy love by morning light,
And talk of all thy truth at night.
2 Sweet is the day of sacred rest,
No worldly cares shall seize my breast;
O may my heart in tune be found,
Like David's harp of solemn sound.
3 My heart shall triumph in my Lord,
And bless his works and bless his word:
Thy works of grace, how bright they shine;
How deep thy counsels, how divine.
4 When grace hath well refined my heart,
Then I shall share a glorious part,
And fresh supplies of joy be shed,
Like holy oil upon my head.
5 Sin, my worst enemy before,
Shall vex my eyes and ears no more;
My inward foes shall all be slain,
Nor Satan break my peace again.
6 Then shall I see, and hear, and know,
All I desired and wished below;
And every power find sweet employ
In that eternal world of joy.
And while they feast upon his grace, Their burdens and their griefs forget. 4 We thank thee for thy day, O Lord; Here we thy promised presence seek: Open thy hand with blessings stored, And give us manna for the week.
Duke Street-Morning Hymn-Philadelphia.
1 Another six days' work is done, Another Sabbath is begun:
Return, my soul; enjoy thy rest;
Improve the day thy God hath blessed.
2 Come, bless the Lord, whose love assigns
So sweet a rest to wearied minds,
Provides a rich foretaste of heaven,
And gives this day the food of seven.
3 O! that our thoughts and thanks may rise As grateful incense to the skies;
And draw from heaven that sweet repose Which none, but he that feels it, knows.
4 In holy duties let the day,
In holy pleasures, pass away:
How sweet, a Sabbath thus to spend
In hope of one that ne'er shall end!
Saxony-Harrington-Manchester.
1 Again the Lord of life and light
Awakes the kindling ray,
Unseals the eyelids of the morn,
And pours refulgent day.
2 Ở what a night was that which wrapt
A sinful world in gloom!
O what a Sun, which broke, this day,
Triumphant from the tomb!
3 This day be grateful homage paid,
And loud hosannahs sung:
Let gladness dwell in ev'ry heart,
And praise on ev'ry tongue.
4 Ten thousand thousand lips shall join,
To hail this welcome morn,
Which scatters blessings from its wings,
To nations yet unborn.
Kent2-St. Pancras-Hungary.
1 Dear is the hallowed morn to me,
When village bells awake the day,
And by their sacred minstrelsy,
Call me from earthly cares away.
2 And dear to me the winged hour,
Spent in thy hallowed courts, O Lord,
To feel devotion's soothing power,
And catch the manna of thy word.
3 And dear to me the loud amen,
Which echoes through the blest abode,
Which swells and sinks, and swells again,
Dies on the walls, but lives to God.
4 And dear the rustic harmony,
Sung with the pomp of village art!
That holy heavenly melody,
The music of a thankful heart.
5 In secret I have often prayed,
And still the anxious tears would fall;
But, on thy sacred altar laid,
The fire descends, and dries them all.
6 Oft when the world, with iron hands, Has bound me in its six-days' chain, This bursts them, like the strong man's bands,
And lets my spirit loose again.
7 Then dear to me the Sabbath-morn; The village bells, the shepherd's voice; These oft have found my heart forlorn, And always bid that heart rejoice.
8 Go, man of pleasure, strike thy lyre,
Of broken Sabbaths sing the charms,
Ours be the prophet's car of fire,
That bears us to a Father's arms.
THE HEAVENLY SABBATH.
St. Ambrosel-Winchester-Stourbridge.
1 Lord of the Sabbath! hear us pray,
When in thy house, on this thy day;
Accept as grateful sacrifice,
The songs which from thy people rise. 2 Thine earthly Sabbaths, Lord, we love; But there's a nobler rest above;
To that our labouring souls aspire:
With ardent hope and strong desire.
3 In thy blessed kingdom we shall be
From every care and trouble free;
No sighs shall mingle with the songs
Resounding from immortal tongues.
4 No rude alarms of raging foes,
No cares to break the long repose,
No clouded sun, no changeful moon,
But sacred, high, eternal noon.
5 Lord of the Sabbath! hear us pray,
In thine own house, on this thy day;
Soon shall we leave this weary road,
This world of toil, to rest in God.
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