Hail, peaceful morn, thy dawning I hail

1Hail, peaceful morn, thy dawning I hail;
How do thy hours my mind regale
With floods of heavenly joy!
Nor can I hail thy blessings now,
Which kindle in my soul a flame,
And all my powers employ.

2How shall I best improve thy hours?
Lord, on me shed thy gracious showers,
Thy Spirit and thy grace;
That when thy sacred courts I tread,
My soul may eat the heavenly bread,
And sing triumphant praise.

3Thou 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.

4Thus may the Sabbath pass away,
My best, my highest, happiest day,
The sweetest of the seven;
But yet a rest for some remains,
The Sabbath free from ills and pains,
Eternal, and in heaven.