The Sabbath Bell (McCabe)

’Tis sweet to hear the Sab­bath bell

Whose soft and sil­ve­ry chime

Breaks on the ears with fall and swell

Wafting our thoughts from time.

I love to hear its mel­low strain

Come float­ing up the dell;

While wend­ing to that sac­red fane

Where chimes the Sab­bath bell.

How me­mo­ry min­gles with that peal!

How hours of oth­er years!

How sad the thoughts

while pen­sive steal

My slow­ly trick­ling tears!

Thoughts

mourn­ful to my bo­som lone

Yet

those I would not quell;

For

sooth­ing to my grief

that tone

Of time

sweet Sab­bath bell.

A few years more

the winds

so bland

Will bid young flow­ers wave

Which

oh

per­haps some kind­ly hand

Will plant around my grave!

I’ll miss thy dear

fa­mil­iar voice

Which

ah

so oft could tell

My heart

tho’ tem­pest tossed

re­joice

Thou dear

dear Sab­bath bell.