Welcome, wel­come, qui­et morn­ing,
Welcome is this ho­ly day;
Now the Sab­bath morn re­turn­ing,
Says a week has passed away.
Let me think how time is pass­ing,
Soon the long­est life de­parts;
Nothing hu­man is abid­ing,
Save the love of hum­ble hearts.

Love to God, and to our neigh­bor,
Makes our pur­est hap­pi­ness;
Vain the wish, the care, the la­bor,
Earth’s poor tri­fles to pos­sess.
Swift my life’s vain dreams are pass­ing,
Like the star­tled dove they fly;
Or the clouds each oth­er chas­ing,
Over yon­der qui­et sky.

Father, now one pray­er I raise Thee;
Give a hum­ble, grate­ful heart;
Never let me cease to praise Thee,
Never from Thy fear de­part.
Then, when years have ga­thered o’er me,
And the world is sunk in shade,
Heaven’s bright realm will rise be­fore me;
There my trea­sure will be laid.