The Lord of Sab­bath let us praise,
In con­sort with the blest,
Who, joy­ful in har­mo­ni­ous lays,
Employ an end­less rest.

Thus, Lord, while we re­mem­ber Thee,
We blest and pi­ous grow;
By hymns of praise we learn to be
Triumphant here be­low.

On this glad day a bright­er scene
Of glo­ry was dis­played,
By the eter­nal Word, than when
This uni­verse was made.

He rises, who man­kind has bought
With grief and pain ex­treme;
’Twas great to speak the world from naught;
’Twas great­er to redeem.