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.

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.

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.

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