Lie still and rest, in that serene repose
That on this holy morning comes to those
Who have been burdened with the cares which make
The sad heart weary and the tired head ache.
Lie still and rest –
God’s day of all is best.
Awake! arise! Cast off thy drowsy dreams!
Red in the East, behold the Morning gleams.
“As Monday goes, so goes the week,” dames say.
Refreshed, renewed, use well the initial day.
And see! thy neighbour
Already seeks his labour.
Another morning’s banners are unfurled –
Another day looks smiling on the world.
It holds new laurels for thy soul to win;
Mar not its grace by slothfulness or sin,
Nor sad, away,
Send it to yesterday.
Half-way unto the end–the week’s high noon.
The morning hours do speed away so soon!
And, when the noon is reached, however bright,
Instinctively we look toward the night.
The glow is lost
Once the meridian cross’d.
So well the week has sped, hast thou a friend,
Go spend an hour in converse. It will lend
New beauty to thy labours and thy life
To pause a little sometimes in the strife.
Toil soon seems rude
That has no interlude.
From feasts abstain; be temperate, and pray;
Fast if thou wilt; and yet, throughout the day,
Neglect no labour and no duty shirk:
Not many hours are left thee for thy work –
And it were meet
That all should be complete.
Now with the almost finished task make haste.
So near the night thou hast no time to waste.
Post up accounts, and let thy Soul’s eyes look
For flaws and errors in Life’s ledger-book.
When labours cease,
How sweet the sense of peace!