A Psalm of Praise, Composed While the Author Was Taking a Retired Walk in the Country

While here I pass the fields of corn, Where num'rens flow'rs my path adorn, O may my 'spiring foul arise, And mount above these lower skies.

Here let me dwell on joys divine, In songs of praise with angers join; While trees, herbs, flow'rs that round me grow, The Almighty's works and wisdom show.

Ye scenes of carnal vain delight, Which drown the sense and charm the sight; Ye earthly joys, which most pursue, Fantastic pleasures, all adieu.

This life at best is but a dream! Jesus! be thou my endless theme. Then welcome death's last solemn call, Vain world farewell, my God's my all,