Music soars in glow of Sunday air,
These days, never a rare affair;
For heaven's door is ever open-
For the sinners, always hopin'!
Softly goes the scented breeze,
That welcomes gradual honeybees;
In the warm stillness of the day,
Honeyed voices and organ convey!
In raptures of the dreamy summer,
Come songs of soloist and drummer,
In devout and lush praise of God,
And larks tweet as though to laud.
Then the minister's mellow voice,
Informs all that there is a choice,
And this is so dramatically true,
As sun's nearness at bloom's debut!
And the soldiers are now sleeping,
And so the devil is now weeping,
To hear sweet sounds of devotion,
From the heart's most pure emotion!