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[The two sabbaths, in] The opal

a pure gift for the holy days. MDCCCXLVIII

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252

THE TWO SABBATHS.

The Song of Creation burst forth like the floods,
That bow, as in worship, the rock-rooted woods;—
Like streams of rejoicing the harmonies run,
Uranus repeating the hymn of the Sun—
“The work of Creation is finished—is blest—
And Earth may enjoy her sweet Sabbath of rest!”
Oh, listen!—there mingles a murmur of wo—
One note of complaining, so lengthened and low,
It seems like the sigh of the flowers when flung,
All fresh in their bloom, on the grave of the young;
—The moan is for man, wrung from Nature's sad breast;
His sin has unhallowed her Sabbath of rest!
The Song of Redemption flowed soft as the light,
When turning to angels the spectres of night;
The clouds wore an iris, the sunbeams a smile,
As though in the chorus they chanted the while—
“The work of Redemption is hallowed above,
And Earth may enjoy her sweet Sabbath of Love!”

253

Oh, listen!—the voices of Cherubim young
Pour out their hosannas as incense is flung;
No more from the world shall God's Spirit withdraw;
The blood of the Cross blots the curse of the Law;
And mortals below, and immortals above,
Now hallow one Sabbath—the Sabbath of Love!