Page:Zinzendorff and Other Poems.pdf/126

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world is full of toil; Toil bids the traveler roam, It binds the laborer to the soil, The student to his tome; The beasts of burden sigh, O'erladen and opprest, The Sabbath lifts its banner high, And gives the weary rest.

The world is full of care; The haggard brow is wrought In furrows as of fix'd despair And check'd the heavenward thought, But with indignant grace The Sabbath's chastening tone, Drives money-changers from the place Which God doth call his own.

The world is full of grief; Sorrows o'er sorrows roll, Even hope that promises relief Doth sometimes pierce the soul; But see the Sabbath's bound Bears Mercy's holy seal, A balm of Gilead for the wound That man is weak to heal.

The world is full of sin; Its tide, deceptive rolls,