Sweet is the sun­light af­ter rain,
And sweet the sleep which fol­lows pain;
And sweet­ly steals the Sab­bath rest
Upon the world’s work-wear­ied breast.

Of Hea­ven the sign, of earth, the calm;
The poor man’s birth­right and his balm;
God’s wit­ness of ce­les­ti­al thing;
A sun with heal­ing in its wings.

New ris­ing in this Gos­pel time,
And in its se­ven­fold light sub­lime,
Blest day of God! we hail its dawn,
To gra­ti­tude and wor­ship drawn.

O naught of gloom and naught of pride
Should with the sac­red hours abide;
At work for God, in loved em­ploy,
We lose the du­ty in the joy.

Breathe on us, Lord! our sins for­give,
And make us strong in faith to live;
Our ut­most, sor­est need sup­ply,
And make us strong in faith to die.