Thou art my single day, God lends to leaven
What were all earth else, with a feel of heaven.

Thou art my single day, God lends to leaven
What were all earth else, with a feel of heaven.

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.

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.

The sabbaths of Eternity.
One sabbath deep and wide.

The sabbaths of Eternity.
One sabbath deep and wide.

Day of the Lord, as all our days should be!

Day of the Lord, as all our days should be!

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.

On Sundays, at the matin-chime,
The Alpine peasants, two and three,
Climb up here to pray;
read more

On Sundays, at the matin-chime,
The Alpine peasants, two and three,
Climb up here to pray;
Burghers and dames, at summer's prime,
Ride out to church from Chamberry,
Dight with mantles gay,
But else it is a lonely time
Round the Church of Brou.

E'en Sunday shines no Sabbath day to me.

E'en Sunday shines no Sabbath day to me.

Gently on tiptoe Sunday creeps,
Cheerfully from the stars he peeps,
Mortals are all asleep below,
read more

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.