THE SABBATH.
Ere yet the dawn has streak'd the eastern skies,
Ere yet the lark has sung her morning lay,
Early, upon that sacred day, arise,
That thou may'st pass it in a pious way;
'Tis not a day in listless sleep to waste,
'Tis not a day, to lie in bed supine,
But 'tis a day, by Christians to be past
In ev'ry act and exercise divine!
'Tis not a day in saunt'ring to be past,--