Poor Man's Sunday

We thank Thee, Lord, for one day
To look Heaven in the face!
The Poor have only Sunday;
The sweeter is the grace.
"lis then they make the music
That sings their week away:
O, there's a sweetness infinite
In the Poor Man's holiday!

'Tis here the weary Pilgrim
Doth reach his House of Ease!
That blessed House, called " Beautiful,"
And that soft Chamber, " Peace."
The Paver of Life runs through his dream
And the leaves of Heaven are at play;
He sees the Golden City gleam,
This grateful holiday.

'Tis as a burst of sunshine,
A tender fall of rain,
That set the barest life a-bloom;
Make old hearts young again.
The dry and dusty roadside
With smiling flowers is gay:
"lis open Heaven one day in seven,
The Poor Man's holiday!