When the sun doth cast ambitious rays,
Foretelling afar his race;
And my heart is clothed with the garment of praise
By an all pervading grace—
When I hear the psalm of the gifted Thrush,
With a song of a mountain stream,
And a child’s sweet laugh, while the morn’s a-flush,
When Nature is all a-gleam—
Ah, then my soul is thrilled with delight
And my mind sweeps every sea,