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Sunday Night. (From The Villager's Verse-Book.)
By William Lisle Bowles
Let us unfold God's holy book,
And by the taper's light,
With hearts subdued, and sober look,
So spend the Sabbath night.
Where now the thoughts of anxious life,
Its guilty pleasures, where?
Here dies its loud and mourning strife,
And all its sounds of care.
Let other views our hearts engross,
To our Redeemer true,
Who seems expiring on the cross,
To say, I died for you!
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