1 ’Tis sweet to hear the Sabbath bell,
Whose soft and silvery chime
Breaks on the ears with fall and swell,
Wafting our thoughts from time.
I love to hear its mellow strain
Come floating up the dell;
While wending to that scared fane,
Where chimes the Sabbath bell.
2 How memory mingles with that peal!
How hours of other years!
How sad the thoughts, while pensive steal
My slowly trickling tears!
Thoughts, mournful to my bosom lone,
Yet, those I would not quell;
For, soothing to my grief, that tone
Of time, sweet Sabbath bell.
3 A few years more, the winds, so bland,
Will bid young flowers wave,
Which, oh, perhaps some kindly hand
Will plant around my grave!
I’ll miss thy dear, familiar voice,
Which, ah, so oft could tell
My heart, tho’ tempest tossed, "rejoice,"
Thou dear, dear Sabbath bell.