O what a gloomy cheerless scene

O what a gloomy cheerless scene
A world accursed might have been,
If He, — who in His mercy hath
Strew'd such delight along life's path, —
Had changed each passing breath and sound
That floats in harmony around, —
To discords such as would destroy
Sensation's every pulse of joy!

But He who bids us seek His face
Makes Nature handmaiden to Grace,
And lest our souls — to earth too prone —
Should faint before they reach the throne,
The sea beneath, the sky above
Hath form'd as mirrors of His love,
And every rock, and flow'r, and tree
Made vocal for eternity.

Where'er we move or walk abroad
We see — we feel a present God!
The very balm that scents the air
Breathes of a purer essence there,
The bubbling runnels as they flow,
Chant sweetest anthems soft and low,
And every bird, from bush and brake,
To praise the sylvan echoes wake.

Nature with one harmonious voice
In her Creator doth rejoice,
Earth's flowers reflect Him in their bloom
And breathe His praise in rich perfume,
The sun by day, the moon by night,
The stars, — those heav'nly flow'rs of light —
All m one sweet accord, — His Name
Almighty! Wonderful! proclaim.

And O! shall I, — when flow'rs and trees,
Things soulless, senseless, such as these,
Live to His praise, — as tho' they seem'd
His own, His purchased, His redeem'd: —
Shall I, — for whom His blood was pour'd,
The blood of the incarnate Lord, —
Be silent, — when this heart should raise
To its Redeemer hymns of praise?

Lord! when amid the songs of earth,
Forgetful of my heavenly birth,
My harp hangs on the willow tree,
And renders back no praise to Thee, —
Let the sweet hymns of those who know
Not half the debt of love I owe,
If not for love, — at least for shame, —
Move this dull soul to praise Thy Name!