Sept. 22 (Sunday), 1826.
Oh happy those whose Sabbaths seem to be
‘Linked each to each by natural piety,’
Smooth stepping-stones above the stream of life,
Which chafes below in all its petty strife;
Gems that recur upon the varied chain
Of our existence, or in joy or pain;
Green olive branches where the soul may rest,
Like the tired dove that seeks her peaceful nest;
Shake off the incumbrance of each worldly care,