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The Sabbath

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Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Apr 30, 1908

FromReview and Herald, Vol. 85, No. 18.

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The Sabbath

By MAY WAKEHAM

MAY WAKEHAM
’Tis Sabbath eve, and in the west The golden sun has sunk to rest. Now silent falls the evening shade O’er vale and hill, o’er field and glade.
The graceful fir bends in the breeze; The birds chirp softly in the trees; A sacred hush, a gentle peace, Bid man from earthly cares to cease.
A call to praise, a call to prayer, Seem floating on the quiet air; And angel whispers from above Bring messages of hope and love.
’Tis holy time, God’s day of rest; ’Twas made by him, by him ’twas ’blest; In paradise this boon was given, A binding link ’twixt earth and heaven.
O Sabbath eve! in thy sweet calm The troubled spirit finds a balm, And Heaven bends low the soul to greet Alone with God in converse sweet.
May all thy hours, sweet day of rest, Be welcome to this troubled breast Until, life’s voyage forever o’er, We greet thee on yon golden shore.
Port Townsend, Wash.