1 By earth hemmed in, by earth oppressed,
'Tis hard to labor, -- hard to pray;
And of the week, for prayer and rest,
We've but one Sabbath day.

2 But purer spirits walk above,
Who worship alway; who are blest
With an upspringing might of love
That makes all labor, rest.

3 Father, while here, we would arise
In spirit to that realm; and there
Be every act a sacrifice,
And every thought a prayer!