On the Sabbath
I.
Another six-days-work is done;
Another sabbath is begun:
Return, my soul, unto thy rest;
Revere the day thy God has blest.
II.
But weep that thou hast done no more
In this, and many weeks before,
For him whom thou art bound to praise
On working and on resting days.
III.
If common actions ought to tend,
To praise him as their common end;
How should his glory be design'd
In every thing of sacred kind?
IV.
For servile work six days are given;
For sacred use but one in seven:
When for my work God gives such time
Shall I begrudge a day to him?
V.
Lord, one in seven's too much for me;
And six too little seems for thee:
My time, my all besides, is thine;
Nothing, no not myself, is mine.
VI.
Nothing I properly could claim,
As truly mine, but sin and shame:
This guilt thou hast remov'd; and given
Thyself, thy son, thy grace, thy heaven.
VII.
My soul with grateful ardor burns,
My God, to make thee some returns:
Well may I render thee thy own;
Well mayst thou reap where thou hast sown.
VIII.
This grateful soul by thee redeem'd,
This holy time by thee esteem'd,
And what I am or have beside,
What I can give or thou provide,
IX.
I offer all, my God, to thee:
If thou accept both mine and me,
I'll praise thy grace, thy name adore,
And wish to offer I had more.
X.
O that my thoughts and words may rise
As incense to propitious skies;
And fetch from heaven that sweet repose
Which none but he that feels it knows.
XI.
This heavenly calm within my breast
Is the dear pledge of glorious rest,
Which for the church of God remains;
The end of cares, the end of pains.
XII.
With joy God's wondrous works I view,
In various scenes both old and new:
With praise I think on mercies past;
With hope, of future pleasures taste.
XIII.
In holy duties thus the day,
In holy pleasures melts away.
How sweet, a sabbath thus to spend
In hope of one that ne'er shall end!
XIV.
Till I am so divinely blest
I'll love this weekly day of rest;
And still when days of work begin
Remember there's no time for sin.
Another six-days-work is done;
Another sabbath is begun:
Return, my soul, unto thy rest;
Revere the day thy God has blest.
II.
But weep that thou hast done no more
In this, and many weeks before,
For him whom thou art bound to praise
On working and on resting days.
III.
If common actions ought to tend,
To praise him as their common end;
How should his glory be design'd
In every thing of sacred kind?
IV.
For servile work six days are given;
For sacred use but one in seven:
When for my work God gives such time
Shall I begrudge a day to him?
V.
Lord, one in seven's too much for me;
And six too little seems for thee:
My time, my all besides, is thine;
Nothing, no not myself, is mine.
VI.
Nothing I properly could claim,
As truly mine, but sin and shame:
This guilt thou hast remov'd; and given
Thyself, thy son, thy grace, thy heaven.
VII.
My soul with grateful ardor burns,
My God, to make thee some returns:
Well may I render thee thy own;
Well mayst thou reap where thou hast sown.
VIII.
This grateful soul by thee redeem'd,
This holy time by thee esteem'd,
And what I am or have beside,
What I can give or thou provide,
IX.
I offer all, my God, to thee:
If thou accept both mine and me,
I'll praise thy grace, thy name adore,
And wish to offer I had more.
X.
O that my thoughts and words may rise
As incense to propitious skies;
And fetch from heaven that sweet repose
Which none but he that feels it knows.
XI.
This heavenly calm within my breast
Is the dear pledge of glorious rest,
Which for the church of God remains;
The end of cares, the end of pains.
XII.
With joy God's wondrous works I view,
In various scenes both old and new:
With praise I think on mercies past;
With hope, of future pleasures taste.
XIII.
In holy duties thus the day,
In holy pleasures melts away.
How sweet, a sabbath thus to spend
In hope of one that ne'er shall end!
XIV.
Till I am so divinely blest
I'll love this weekly day of rest;
And still when days of work begin
Remember there's no time for sin.
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