| Blest are the moments, doubly blest, That drawn from this one hour of rest, Are with a ready heart bestowed Upon the service of our God! | | Each field is then a hallowed spot, An altar is in each man's cot, A church in every grove that spreads Its living roof above our heads. | | Look up to heaven, the industrious sun Already half his race hath run: He cannot halt or go astray, But our immortal spirits may. | | Lord, since his rising in the east, If we have faltered or transgressed, Guide, from thy love's abundant source, What yet remains of this day's course; | | Help with thy grace, through life's short day, Our upward and our downward way; And glorify for us the west, When we shall sink to final rest. | |