When Spring unlocks the flowers, to paint the laughing soil;
When Summer’s balmy showers refresh the mower’s toil;
When Winter binds in frosty chains the fallow and the flood,
In God the earth rejoiceth still, and owns her Maker good.
The birds that wake the morning, and those that love the shade;
The winds that sweep the mountain, or lull the drowsy glade;
The sun that from his amber bower rejoiceth on his way,
The moon and stars their Maker’s name in silent pomp display.
Shall man, the lord of nature, expectant of the sky—
Shall man, alone unthankful, his meed of praise deny?