1. Sweet is the day of sacred rest; No mortal cares shall seize my breast. Oh, may my heart in tune be found, Like David’s harp of solemn sound. 2. Then shall I share a glorious part, When grace hath well refined my heart, And fresh supplies of joy are shed, Like holy oil, to cheer my head. 3. Then shall I see, and hear, and know All I desired and wished below; And ev’ry pow’r find sweet employ, In that eternal world of joy.
|First Line:||Sweet is the day of sacred rest|
|Author:||Isaac Watts (1719)|