Sweet is the light of Sab­bath eve,
And soft the sun­beam lin­ger­ing there;
Those sac­red hours this low earth leave,
Wafted on wings of praise and pray­er.

This time, how love­ly and how still!
Peace shines and smiles on all be­low;
The plain, the stream, the wood, the hill,
All fair with ev­en­ing’s set­ting glow!

Season of rest—the tran­quil soul
Feels thy sweet calm, and melts in love;
And while these sac­red mo­ments roll,
Faith sees a smil­ing Heav’n above.

How short the time, how soon the sun
Sets, and dark night re­sumes her reign;
And soon the hours of rest are done,
Then mor­row brings the world again.

Yet will our jour­ney not be long,
Our pil­grim­age will soon be trod;
And we shall join the cease­less song,
The end­less Sab­bath of our God.