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How cheerful along the gay mead,

The daisy and cowslip appear, The flocks as they carelessly feed,

Rejoice in the spring of the year, The myrtles that shade the gay bow'rs,

The herbage that springs from the fod, Trees, plants, cooling fruits, and sweet flow'rs,

All rise to the praise of my God.

Shall man, the great master of all,

The only insensible prove?
Forbid it fair Gratitude's call,

Forbid it Devotion and Love,
The Lord who such wonders could raise,

And still can destroy with a nod,
My lips shall incessantly praise,

My soul shall be wrapt in my God!



London: Printed by the


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