What though our burthen be not light, We need not toil from morn to night; 10 The respite of the mid-day hour Is in the thankful Creature's power. Blest are the moments, doubly blest, That, drawn from this one hour of rest, Are with a ready heart bestowed 15 Upon the service of our God! Each field is then a hallowed spot,[1003] An altar is in each man's cot, A church in every grove that spreads Its living roof above our heads. 20 Look up to Heaven! the industrious Sun Already half his race hath run; _He_ cannot halt nor go astray, But our immortal Spirits may. Lord! since his rising in the East, 25 If we have faltered or transgressed, Guide, from thy love's abundant source, What yet remains of this day's course: Help with thy grace, through life's short day, Our upward and our downward way; 30 And glorify for us the west, When we shall sink to final rest. FOOTNOTES: [1003] 1845. Why should we crave a hallowed spot? 1835. THE REDBREAST (SUGGESTED IN A WESTMORELAND COTTAGE) Composed 1834.--Published 1835 [Written at Rydal Mount. All our cats having been banished the house, it was soon frequented by redbreasts. Two or three of them, when the window was open, would come in, particularly when Mrs. Wordsworth was breakfasting alone, and hop about the table picking up the crumbs. My sister being then confined to her room by sickness, as, dear creature, she still is, had one that, without being caged, took up its abode with her, and at night used to perch upon a nail from which a picture had hung. It used to sing and fan her face with its wings in a manner that was very touching.--I.F.] One of the "Poems founded on the Affections."--ED.