My temples feel its pow’r,
Cooling and soothing every throbbing vein;
My spirit lifts its weary wings once more,
And bursts the strong clasps of care’s sordid chain,
And floats all calm and free,
Blent with the music of the bending wood,
Fill’d with the light of immortality,
Even the presence of the Living God.
Nature is full of Him,
And every willing spirit feels his pow’r;