Sweet is the day of sacred rest, No mortal care shall fill my breast; Oh, may my heart in tune be found, Like David's harp of solemn sound. Then shall I share a glor'ous part, When grace hath well refined my heart, And fresh supplies of joy are shed, Like holy oil to cheer my head. Then shall I see, and hear and know All I desired and wished below; And ev'ry pow'r find sweet employ, In that eternal world of joy.