Poem November 28, 1901 Issue

Sweet Sabbath Day

BY M. E. O.

SOFT tints of Light, in purple bars,
Proclaim a new-born day;
Its heralders, the morning stars,
And th' soaring lark's sweet lay
That calls all Nature to arise
This Sabbath morn to greet,
And to the Ruler of the skies,
Give praise and homage meet.

Sweet Sabbath day! It strikes a knell,—
Another week has flown;
Life's harvest-time can only tell,
What kind of seed we've sown.
But loving words, in mercy giv'n,
And nourished by our prayers,
Must bear bright blooms, perchance in heav'n,
To crown the troublous years.

Our hearts yield to the joyful strain
That Nature's voices sing,
And in harmonious refrain,
Chant praises to our King.
Blest Sabbath day! How sweet its rest!
May we its hours employ
In seeking Wisdom's way so blest,
That leads to peace and joy.