Gently on tiptoe Sunday creeps,
Cheerfully from the stars he peeps,
Mortals are all asleep below,
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Gently on tiptoe Sunday creeps,
Cheerfully from the stars he peeps,
Mortals are all asleep below,
None in the village hears him go;
E'en chanticleer keeps very still,
For Sunday whispered, 'twas his will.

E'en Sunday shines no Sabbath day to me.

E'en Sunday shines no Sabbath day to me.

Sundaies observe: think when the bells do chime,
'Tis angel's musick; therefore come not late.

Sundaies observe: think when the bells do chime,
'Tis angel's musick; therefore come not late.

The sabbaths of Eternity.
One sabbath deep and wide.

The sabbaths of Eternity.
One sabbath deep and wide.

So sang they, and the empyrean rung
With Hallelujahs. Thus was Sabbath kept.

So sang they, and the empyrean rung
With Hallelujahs. Thus was Sabbath kept.

Now, really, this appears the common case
Of putting too much Sabbath into Sunday--
But what is read more

Now, really, this appears the common case
Of putting too much Sabbath into Sunday--
But what is your opinion, Mrs. Grundy?

For, bless the gude mon, gin he had his ain way,
He's na let a cat on the Sabbath read more

For, bless the gude mon, gin he had his ain way,
He's na let a cat on the Sabbath say "mew;"
Nae birdie maun whistle, nae lambie maun play,
An' Phoebus himsel' could na travel that day,
As he'd find a new Joshua in Andie Agnew.

And he said unto them, The sabbath was made for man, and not man
for the sabbath:
Therefore read more

And he said unto them, The sabbath was made for man, and not man
for the sabbath:
Therefore the Son of man is Lord also of the sabbath.

How still the morning of the hallow'd day!
Mute is the voice of rural labour, hush'd
The read more

How still the morning of the hallow'd day!
Mute is the voice of rural labour, hush'd
The ploughboy's whistle, and the milkmaid's song.