1 Thine earthly Sabbaths, Lord, we love,
But there's a nobler rest above;
To that our longing souls aspire,
With ardent pangs of strong desire.
2 No more fatigue, no more distress,
Nor sin nor hell shall reach the place;
No groans to mingle with the songs
Which warble from immortal tongues.
3 No rude alarms of raging foes;
No cares to break our long repose;
No midnight shade, no clouded sun,
Obscures the lustre of thy throne.
4 Around thy throne, grant we may meet,
And give us but the lowest seat;
We'll shout thy praise, and join the songs
Of the triumphant, holy throng.
The Hartford Selection of Hymns from the most approved authors, 1799