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373.

L. M.

Doddridge.

The Eternal Sabbath.

Lord of the Sabbath, hear our vows,

On this Thy day, in this Thy house;

And own, as grateful sacrifice,

The songs which from Thy churches rise.

Thine earthly Sabbaths, Lord, we love;

But there’s a nobler rest above;

To that our longing souls aspire,

With earnest hope and strong desire.

No more fatigue, no more distress;

Nor sin nor death shall reach the place;

No groans to mingle with the songs

Which warble from immortal tongues.

No rude alarms of raging foes;

No cares to break the long repose;

No midnight shade, no clouded sun,

But sacred, high, eternal noon.

O long expected day, begin;

Dawn on these realms of woe and sin!

Fain would we leave this weary road,

And pass through death, to rest with God.

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