The Sabbath

NOT for us the Sabbath of the quiet streets,

Sabbath peaceful o’er the world outspread,

Felt where every man his neighbor greets,

Heard in hush of many a slowly passing tread.

Not the robe of silence for our holy day:—

Noisy flock the worker and the player;

Toil and stir and laughter of the way

Surge around the steps that seek a place of prayer.

Silent we while through the thronging street and mart

Work-day clamor of the city rolls:—

Cloistered inly, from the world apart,

Ours ’tis to bear the Sabbath in our souls.