O praise the Lord! the morning sun,
From sleep awakes the cheerful swain;
And all creation's joys again,
To us, in streams renewed, run.
O praise the Lord! ye sweetest flow'rs,
To him your earliest fragrance yield;
Ye birds exert your tuneful pow'rs;
Praise him in meadow and in field.
O praise the Lord!—Ev'n from his den
The desert's savage roars his praise;
And, oh! my soul! how much more then,
Should'st thou thy voice in Paeans raise?
—Oscar.
Phila. Repos., III-152, May 7, 1803, Phila.
ODE TO SPRING
From the German.
"Freude wirbelt in den Lüften."
Joy comes laughing with the breeze;
Gladness spreads itself around;
Songsters warble in the trees;
Nature gaily decks the ground.
Heav'n unfolds its richest vesture,
Sparkling stars—etherial blue;
Fairies dance with antic gesture;
Or sip, delighted, morning dew.