Written in a Garden

From busy scenes, with peace alone retir'd, And the warm ray of gratitude inspir'd, For blessings past, and mercies yet to come, Here let me praise my God, and fix my home: With Isaac, in the fields, for grace implore; With Moses, in each beamy bush, adore! His providence for all my wants provides, His arm upholds me, and his right hand guides: His breezes fan me in the noon-tide hours, Where coolness walks amid my shades and bow'rs: His bounty in the silver current flows, Smiles in the blossoms, in the fruitage glows: His radiant finger gilds the vernal flowers, Fed with his balm, and water'd with his showers: He bids the rose its crimson folds unloose, And blush, refulgent, in the purple dews: The lily he arrays with spotless white, Rich in its mantle of inwoven light, (Go, Solomon, and cast thy gems aside, Nor glory in thy poverty of pride!) The painted tribes their sunny beams display, And lend a lucid softness to the day. Grateful, each flower to heaven its incense pays, And breathes its fragrant soul away in praise. Oh, thither may they teach my soul to soar, Confess my Saviour, and his steps adore! Contented let me live, submissive die, And hope a fairer paradise on high!