Classic Poem

O day of rest and gladness,
O day of joy and light,
O balm of care and sadness,
Most beautiful, most bright!
On Thee the high and lowly,
Through ages joined in tune,
Sing, “Holy, holy, holy!”
To the great God triune.

Thou art a port protected
From storms that round us rise;
A garden intersected
With streams of paradise;
Thou art a colling fountain
In life's dry dreary sand;
From thee, like Pisgah's mountain,
We view our promised land.

Today on weary nations
The heavenly manna falls;
To holy convocations
The silver trumpet calls;
Where gospel light is glowing
With pure and radiant beams,
And living water flowing
With soul-refreshing streams.

A day of sweet reflection
Thou art,—a day of love,
A day of resurrection
From earth to things above.
New graces ever gaining
From this our day of rest,
We reach the rest remaining
To spirits of the blest.