Another six days’ work is done
Another Sab­bath is be­gun;
Return, my soul, en­joy thy rest,
Improve the day that God hath blest.

Come, praise the Lord, whose love as­signs
So sweet a rest to wea­ry minds;
Provides an an­te­past of Hea­ven
And gives this day the food of se­ven.

O that our thoughts and thanks may rise
As grate­ful in­cense to the skies!
And draw from Hea­ven that sweet re­pose
Which none but he who feels it knows.

A hea­ven­ly calm per­vades the breast
Is the dear pledge of glo­ri­ous rest,
Which for the Church of God re­mains,
The end of cares, the end of pains.

With joy, great God, Thy works we view,
In va­ri­ous scenes, both old and new;
With praise we think on mer­cies past,
With hope we fu­ture plea­sure taste.

In ho­ly du­ties let the day,
In holy com­forts pass away;
The Sab­bath thus we love to spend,
In hope of one which ne’er shall end.