Sabbath Rest.

It is the day of holy rest,1
The world’s harsh voice is still ;2
Hushed in the sweet spring lands, the town,3
Is sleeping on the hill.4
Soft come the chants of Paradise,5
Where choirs of streamlets throng,6
And sudden praises wake the heights,7
And flush the woods with song.8
Great nature nearer seems and breathes9
The voice of Deity,10
“Draw nigh, draw nigh to God, O man,11
He draweth nigh to thee.”12
Oh blessèd Rest !  Thou dost not come13
One, holy, among seven ;14
Nor day art thou, nor time ; thou liest15
An outer court of Heaven ;16
But man will scarcely enter thee,17
In thy sweet peace to share,18
He dwells within the weary din19
Of his own pain and care.20
A breaker-up of stones he is,21
With eyes upon the ground,22
Outside a great cathedral’s doors,23
Where full rich voices sound ;24
And, hearing not that white-robed choir25
In marble cool retreat,26
He enters not to soothe his ears27
And rest his burning feet.28
Oh blessèd Rest !  God built thy walls,29
Thy heaven-lit windows made,30
Gave thee thy music and thine aisles31
Of woven sun and shade ;32
And while we hammer at our cares33
In weariness and pride,34
Thy unseen choirs some anthem pure35
Are singing at our side.36
Oh blessèd Rest ! lure thou our feet,37
Fold thou our hands in prayer,38
Touch thou our immortality,39
And wake thy music there !40
Be not to us as days that fade,41
Or harmonies that cease ;42
But fill our hearts with God’s best gift—43
In strife—eternal peace.44