What a blessed, ecclesiastical day of rest this Sunday is,
With you and I attending church services, in our sacred bed,
Worshiping the godhead of our warm, wondrous bodies,
Singing hymns, reciting benedictions, to our precious flesh,
Taking communion, from each other's touching.
And what a precious refuge from the cold and hurly-burly,
For our sorely needing, week-weary spirits,
This sanctuary, in the Lord's house of our hearts' oneness, is,
Where, while confessing the blemishes of our souls,
We profess our most bone-deep affections for who we are.
For nearly three sweet hours of the purest prayers,
We shimmer in the hope our peaceful dreams for eternity hold,
Preach the gospel of each other's cherished caring,
And fill our earthly vessels with the joys of perpetual grace,
Freeing us to see the source from which our love emanates.