1 Go forth, my heart, and seek for praise

On these delightsome summer days,

In what thy God bestows.

How rich the garden’s beauties be,

How lavishly for me and thee

It doth its charms disclose.

2 The forest stands in leafy pride,

The earth is veiled on every side

With garb of freshest green!

The tulip and narcissus here

More wondrous in their pomp appear

Than Solomon was seen.

3 The lark floats high before the breeze,

The dove toward the forest-trees

From covert speeds along;

The song-enriched nightingale,

In ecstasy, fills hill and dale

And mount and plain with song.

4 The hen her tiny flock enfolds;

The stork his dwelling builds and holds;

The swallow feeds her brood;

The lightsome stag, the bounding roe,

Skipping from upland refuge go

To depths of grassy food.

5 The brawling brook adown the plain

Lines its fair margin fresh again

With myrtle-shadows deep.

The meadows green relieve the eye

And echo with the gladsome cry

Of shepherds and their sheep.

6 The never-weary tribe of bees,

Now here, now there in blossoming trees,

Find booty far and near;

The sturdy juices of the vine,

For sweetness and for strength combine,

The pilgrim’s toil to cheer.

7 The wheat lifts rank its ears of gold

To fill with joy both young and old,

Who learn the name to praise

Of Him who doth incessant pour

From heavenly love a matchless store

Upon our sinful race.

8 And shall I, can I dumb remain?

No, every power shall sing again

To God, who loves us best.

Come, let me sing; all nature sings,

And all within me tribute brings,

Streaming from out my breast.

9 Methinks, if here thou art so fair,

And sufferest a love so rare

To poor earth’s sons be given,

What gladness shall hereafter rise

In rich pavilion of the skies,

And golden tower of heaven!

10 What lofty pleasure, glory bright,

In Jesus’ garden shall delight!

How shall the chorus ring,

When thousand thousand seraphim

With one consenting voice and hymn

Their Alleluia sing!

11 Oh! were I there. Oh! that, thine own,

I stood, dear God, before thy throne,

Bearing the victor’s palm!

There would I, like the angel-choir,

Still sound thy worthy praises higher,

With many a glorious psalm.

12 But while I bear life’s burdens still,

With cheerful mind and voice I will

No longer hide thy grace:

My heart shall ever more and more

Thy goodness and thy love adore,

Here and in every place.

13 Help now, and on my spirit pour

Thy heavenly blessing evermore,

That, like a flower, to thee

I may, through summer of thy grace,

In my soul’s garden all my days

The holy fruitage bear.

14 Choose me to bloom in Paradise,

And, till in death I close my eyes,

Let soul and body thrive;

Being to thee and to thy praise,

To thee alone, my lifelong days,

In earth and heaven, alive.