John Fawcett
(1789 - 1867)

How fine has the day been
(S.A.T.B. + reduction)
Full score (PDF), €0.00 for unlimited copies   Download this item
Printable cover page (PDF), €0.00 for unlimited copies   Download this item

If you have any problem obtaining a PDF, please see our help page. If that does not resolve the issue, please click here.
Page 1 of 4
Creative Commons Licence
This work, Fawcett : How fine has the day been : scoreid 147474, as published by notAmos Performing Editions, is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License. All relevant attributions should state its URL as https://www.notamos.co.uk/detail.php?scoreid=147474. Permissions beyond the scope of this licence may be available at https://www.notamos.co.uk/index.php?sheet=about.
From "Harmonia sacra, a collection of the most celebrated tunes and anthems", Aberdeen, 1822. This work includes neither organ part nor figured bass; a reduction has been extracted in the present edition.
Lyrics: Isaac Watts

How fine has the day been, how bright was the sun,
How lovely and joyful the course he has run;
Tho' he rose in a mist when his race he begun,
And there followed some droppings of rain.
But now the fair trav'ller is come to the west,
His rays are all gold and his beauties are best;
He paints the sky gay as he sinks to his rest,
And foretells a bright rising again.


Just such is the Christian, his race he begins
Like a fine rising sun when he mourns for his sins;
Now he melts into tears, then he breaks out and shines,
And he travels his heavenly way.
But now the fair trav'ller is come to the west,
His rays are all gold and his beauties are best;
He paints the sky gay as he sinks to his rest,
And foretells a bright rising again.


But when he comes nearer to finish his race,
Like a fine setting sun, he looks richer in grace,
And he gives a sure hope in the end of his days
Of rising in brighter array.
But now the fair trav'ller is come to the west,
His rays are all gold and his beauties are best;
He paints the sky gay as he sinks to his rest,
And foretells a bright rising again.