From av'rice, cunning, passion, pride,
That he hath left the path untried,
The crooked path that worldlings run,
And, happy spirit! early died.
If thou couldst know who dwell below
In deep unutterable woe;
Or wing with me thy journey far
Above, where shines the morning star;
And hear the bright angelic choirs
(Casting their crowns before His feet,)