1 Our Sabbaths come so welcome on,
We wish them to remain awhile,
But soon, alas! their joys are gone,
And scarce "bequeath a parting smile."

2 Full many are the hours of grief,
Allotted to the sons of men,
Our Sabbaths bring a short relief,
Yet leave us but to mourn again.

3 Ye peaceful days! and thou blest sun!
Why roll ye in such haste away?
Ye happy hours! why flow ye on
So fast towards eternity?

4 O! if ye bring an endless day,
Speed fast along, nor ever cease;
We'll gladly feel your joys decay,
In perfect and enduring bliss.