Hail, peaceful morn, thy dawn I hail

Hail, peaceful morn, thy dawn I hail;
How do thy hours my mind regale
With feasts of heavenly joy!
Nor can I half thy blessings name,
Which kindle in my soul a flame,
And all my powers employ.

How shall I best improve thy hours?
Lord, on me shed in copious showers
Thy Spirit and thy grace;
That when thy sacred courts I tread,
My soul may eat the heavenly bread,
And sing Jehovah's praise.

Thou hallowed season of repose,
Thou balm to soothe the throbbing woes
Of this care-stricken breast;
Thy sacred hours I'll ever greet,
And with the faithful will I meet,
To taste thy holy rest.

Thus may the Sabbath pass away,
My best, my holiest, happiest day,
The sweetest of the seven;
But yet a rest for saints remains,
The Sabbath free from ills and pains,
Eternal, and in heaven.