I send the joys of earth away;

Away, ye tempters of the mind!

False as the smooth, deceitful sea,

And empty as the whistling wind.

Your streams were floating me along

Down to the gulf of black despair,

And whilst I listened to your song,

Your streams had e'en conveyed me there.

Lord, I adore thy matchless grace,

That warned me of that dark abyss,

That drew me from those treach'rous seas,

And bid me seek superior bliss.

Now to the shining realms above

I stretch my hands and glance mine eyes;

O for the pinions of a dove,

To bear me to the upper skies!

There, from the bosom of my God,

Oceans of endless pleasure roll;

There would I fix my last abode,

And drown the sorrows of my soul.