
William Wordsworth, 1834
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Blest are the moments, doubly blest, That drawn from this one hour of rest, Are with a ready heart bestowed Upon the service of our God!
2. Each field is then a hallowed spot, |
3. Look up to heaven, the industrious sun Already half his race hath run: He cannot halt or go astray, But our immortal spirits may.
4. Lord, since his rising in the east, |
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5. Help with thy grace, through life's short day, Our upward and our downward way; And glorify for us the west, When we shall sink to final rest. |

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