In the still morning air,
The bright golden grain
Waves over the plain!
It is God who doth all this bestow.


The Sabbath is here. On this blessed morn,
No tired ox moans,
No creaking wheel groans.
At rest is the plough.
No noise is heard now,
Save the sound of the rustling corn.


The Sabbath is here. Our seed we have sown,
In hope and in faith.
The Father He saith
Amen! Be it so!
Behold the corn grow!
Rejoicing his goodness we'll own.


The Sabbath is here. His love we will sing,
Who sendeth the rain
Upon the young grain.
Full soon all around
The sickle will sound,
And home the bright sheaves we will bring