SABBATH MORNING.

1 The Sabbath bells are knolling slow, The summer morn how fair! Whilst father, mother, children go, And seek the house of prayer.

2 Some, musing, roam the churchyard round, Some turn their heads with sighs, And gaze upon the new-made ground Where old Giles Summers lies.

3 But see the pastor in his band, The bells have ceased to knoll; Now enter, and at God's command, Think, Christian, of thy soul.

4 Whilst heavenly hopes around thee shine, As in God's presence live, And calmer comforts shall be thine, Than all the world can give.