A Country Sunday

Oh hail! thou beauteous morn, serenely bright,
Now bursting glorious from the shades of night;
And hail, thou Sun ! whose warm and lively glow,
Diffuses joy above, around, below;
Who flaming brightly in yon azure sky,
Proclaim'st the glory of thy God on high.
Oh! shed thy sweetest, but most brilliant ray,
On this his sanctified and holy day;
Through the glad land thy cheering power dispense
To warm each heart, and rouse each grateful sense.
Then let all Nature with unerring voice,
And simultaneous accents loud rejoice;
Wave thy triumphant tops, thou forests deep,
And in sweet peace, thou murmuring waters sleep!
Ye winds be still! but zephyrs gently bear
Your Maker's praises to the list'ning ear.
And you, ye numerous tribes, to whom 'tis given,
To breathe the vital air of gracious Heaven,
In different ways your gratitude express,
And by your joy, your great Creator bless
But thou, 'bove all, immortal as thou art,
Oh towering Man! now ope thine inmost heart;
For, chief for thee, Omnipotence hath blest,
And call'd this chosen day, “a day of rest”;
For thee allotted each returning space,
To cleanse thy soul by his redeeming grace;
To gradual break earth's low and sordid chain,
And clasp those links that bind tOheav'n again.
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