“Sabbath Rest”
C. F. B. (poet; Good Words)
C. F. B.
Metadata research and editing
DVPP Project Team
Fralick
Kaitlyn
University of Victoria Digital Victorian Periodical Poetry Project
Victoria, BC, Canada
In the public domain
Good Words
31
247
It is the day of holy rest,
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“ Sabbath Rest
.”
It is the day of holy rest,
The world’s harsh voice is still ;
Hushed in the sweet spring lands, the town,
Is sleeping on the hill.
Soft come the chants of Paradise,
Where choirs of streamlets throng,
And sudden praises wake the heights,
And flush the woods with song.
Great nature nearer seems and breathes
The voice of Deity,
“Draw nigh, draw nigh to God, O man,
He draweth nigh to thee.”
Oh blessèd Rest ! Thou dost not come
One, holy, among seven ;
Nor day art thou, nor time ; thou liest
An outer court of Heaven ;
But man will scarcely enter thee,
In thy sweet peace to share,
He dwells within the weary din
Of his own pain and care.
A breaker-up of stones he is,
With eyes upon the ground,
Outside a great cathedral’s doors,
Where full rich voices sound ;
And, hearing not that white-robed choir
In marble cool retreat,
He enters not to soothe his ears
And rest his burning feet.
Oh blessèd Rest ! God built thy walls,
Thy heaven-lit windows made,
Gave thee thy music and thine aisles
Of woven sun and shade ;
And while we hammer at our cares
In weariness and pride,
Thy unseen choirs some anthem pure
Are singing at our side.
Oh blessèd Rest ! lure thou our feet,
Fold thou our hands in prayer,
Touch thou our immortality,
And wake thy music there !
Be not to us as days that fade,
Or harmonies that cease ;
But fill our hearts with God’s best gift—
In strife—eternal peace.
C. F. B.