AND now on earth the seventh Evening arose in Eden, for the sun Of Godhead, fixed for ever firm and sure, Now resting, blessed and hallowed the se venth day, As resting on that day from all his work, Choral or unison: of incense clouds, thee, or tongue Relate thee! Greater now in thy return So sung they, and the empyrean rung With hallelujahs: thus was Sabbath kept. THE SABBATH. ᎻᎬᎡᏴᎬᎡᎢ, O DAY most calm, most bright, The fruit of this, the next world's bud, Th' endorsement of supreme delight, Writ by a friend, and with his blood; The couch of time, care's balm and bay! The week were dark, but for thy light: Thy torch doth shew the way. The other days and thou Make up one man; whose face thou art, Knocking at Heaven with thy brow: The workie days are the back part; The burthen of the week lies there, Making the whole to stoop and bow, Till thy release appear. Man hath straight forward gone To endless death; but thou dost pull And turn us round to look on One, Whom, if we were not very dull, We could but choose to look on still; Since there is no place so lone, The which he doth not fill. Sundays the pillars are, And hollow room with vanities. Which parts their ranks and orders. The Sundays of man's life, Threaded together on Time's string, Make bracelets to adorn the wife |