Thou art, O God, the life and light
Of all this wondrous world we see;
Its glow by day, its smile by night,
Are but reflections caught from Thee.
Where'er we turn, thy glories shine,
And all things fair and bright are Thine!
When Day, with farewell beam, delays
Among the opening clouds of Even,
And we can almost think we gaze
Thro' golden vistas into Heaven—
Those hues, that make the Sun's decline
So soft, so radiant, LORD! are Thine.
When Night, with wings of starry gloom,
O'ershadows all the earth and skies,
Like some dark, beauteous bird, whose plume
Is sparkling with unnumbered eyes—
That sacred gloom, those fires divine,
So grand, so countless, LORD! are Thine.
When youthful Spring around us breathes,
Thy Spirit warms her fragrant sigh;
And every flower the Summer wreaths
Is born beneath that kindling eye.
Where'er we turn, thy glories shine,
And all things fair and bright are Thine.
[1] I have heard that this air is by the late Mrs. Sheridan. It is sung to the beautiful old words, "I do confess thou'rt smooth and fair."
THE BIRD, LET LOOSE.
(AIR.—BEETHOVEN.)
The bird, let loose in eastern skies,[1]
When hastening fondly home,
Ne'er stoops to earth her wing, nor flies
Where idle warblers roam.
But high she shoots thro' air and light,
Above all low delay,
Where nothing earthly bounds her flight,
Nor shadow dims her way.
So grant me, GOD, from every care
And stain of passion free,
Aloft, thro' Virtue's purer air,
To hold my course to Thee!
No sin to cloud, no lure to stay
My Soul, as home she springs;—
Thy Sunshine on her joyful way,
Thy Freedom in her wings!