My son cries through the night
On this Monday eve,
Knowing, groaning in my soul
That sleeplessness awaits me.
His needs above mine
I awake from my slumbering bed
And think of Christ’s love divine,
And care for his needs instead.
As I find rest in His perfection
He is the God of the Sabbath,
The works of my hands on Monday
He will establish.
Today’s duties call
Like a storm warning,
Toiling, working, moving
The good works He planned for me
The Gospel I’m adorning.
He is the God of the Sabbath,
He is the God who will provide
Strength for my moments
In His Sabbath I abide.
