The Sabbath is here.  It is sent us from Heaven. 
       Rest, rest, toilsome life. 
       Be silent all strife. 
       Let us stop on our way,
       And give thanks, and pray
       To Him who all things has given.

    The Sabbath is here.  To the fields let us go. 
       How fresh and how fair,
       In the still morning air,
       The bright golden grain
       Waves over the plain! 
       It is God who doth all this bestow.

    The Sabbath is here.  On this blessed morn,
       No tired ox moans,
       No creaking wheel groans. 
       At rest is the plough. 
       No noise is heard now,
       Save the sound of the rustling corn.

    The Sabbath is here.  Our seed we have sown,
       In hope and in faith. 
       The Father He saith
       Amen!  Be it so! 
       Behold the corn grow! 
       Rejoicing his goodness we’ll own.

    The Sabbath is here.  His love we will sing,
       Who sendeth the rain
       Upon the young grain. 
       Full soon all around
       The sickle will sound,
       And home the bright sheaves we will bring

    The Sabbath is here.  In hope and in love,
       We sow in the dust,
       While humbly we trust,
       Up yonder, shall grow
       The seed which we sow,
       And bloom a bright garland above.