Sweet is the day of sacred rest,
No mortal care shall fill my breast;
Oh, may my heart in tune be found,
Like David’s harp of solemn sound.
Then shall I share a glor’ous part,
When grace hath well refined my heart,
And fresh supplies of joy are shed,
Like holy oil to cheer my head.
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.