Sabbath Peace

To love of thee I drink my cup—
Peace to thee, peace, O Seventh Day!
Six days of work are like thy slaves,
While toiling through them, full of restlessness,
All of them seem to me but as a few days,
For the love I have to thee, O day of my delight!
I go forth on the first day to do my work,
To set in order the next Sabbath day's array:
For God hath placed the blessing there:
Thou alone art my portion for all my toil.
The lamp for my holy day is from the light of mine Holy One;
The sun and stars are jealous of my sun.
What care I for the second day or the third?
Let the fourth day hide his lights—
I hear a herald of good tidings from the fifth day forth:
To-morrow cometh fresh life for my soul!
The morning for my labour, the evening for my freedom;
I shall be summoned to the table of my King, my Shepherd!
I find upon the sixth day my soul rejoicing,
For there draweth nigh to me the time of rest;
Albeit I go about, a wanderer, to find relief,
At even I forget all my weariness and wandering.
How sweet to me the time between the lights—
To see the face of Sabbath, with mien renewed!
O come with apples, bring ye many raisin cakes—
This is the day of my rest, this my love, my friend.
I will sing to thee, O Sabbath, songs of love;
So it befitteth thee, for thou art a day of enjoyments,
A day of pleasures, yea, of banquets three,
Pleasure at my table, pleasure of my couch.