Classic Poem

The Sabbath is here!
Like a dove out of heaven descending,
Toil and turmoil suspending,
Comes in the glad morn!
It smiles on the highway,
And down the green by-way,
'Mong fields of ripe corn.

The Sabbath is here!
Behold! the full sheaves own the blessing,
So plainly confessing
A Father's mild care.
In Sabbath-noon stillness,
The crops in their fulness
How graceful and fair!

The Sabbath is here!
No clank of the plough-chain we hear, now, —
No lash, far or near, now, —
No creaking of wheels.
With million low voices
The harvest rejoices
All over the fields.

The Sabbath is here!
The seed we in faith and hope planted;
God's blessing was granted;
It sprang to the light.
We gaze, now, and listen,
Where fields wave and glisten,
With grateful delight.

The Sabbath is here!
Give praise to the Father, whose blessing
The fields are confessing!
Soon the reapers will come,
With rustling and ringing
Of sickles, and bringing
The yellow sheaves home.

The Sabbath is here!
The seed we in fond hope are sowing
Will one day rise, glowing
In the smile of God's love.
In dust though we leave it,
We trust to receive it
In glory above!