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)|