HYMN OF NATURE.
HARK, my soul, how every thing
Strives to serve our bounteous King; Each a double tribute pays, Sings its part, and then obeys.
Nature's chief and sweetest choir
Him with cheerful notes admire;
Chanting every day their lauds,
While the grove their song applauds.
Though their voices lower be,
Streams have, too, their melody;
Night and day they warbling run,
Never pause, but still sing on.
All the flowers that gild the spring
Hither their still music bring;
If Heaven bless them, thankful they
Smell more sweet, and look more gay.