To Thee, the source of every creature’s good:
Then, in this calm and holy solitude,
Let ours, ascending, mix with Nature’s voice—
Let us, with sun, and wood, and stream rejoice—
Join in the chant of universal love
That swells from all below and all above,
To hymn the Uncreate, Invisible,
In whom all power, and life, and glory dwell.
THE BLIND HARPER.
Rest thee—companion of my toilsome way—