Happiness

O HAPPINESS, by all admir'd, pursu'd,
How oft defin'd, how seldom understood,
And always at a painful distance view'd!

Thy charms, alluring, in fair prospect rise;
They court our eager arms and longing eyes,
And prompt our fond desires and restless sighs

If thou art but a dream, an empty name,
Then why this active pow'r, this quenchless flame;
By heav'n implanted in the human frame?

The great Creator, just, and good, and wise,
The wants of all his creatures well supplies,
Nor blessings to the lowest rank denies.

Shall man, alone, unsatisfied remain?
And doom'd to ceaseless unavailing pain,
Must all his ardent wishes rise in vain?

No, there is nobler bliss for man design'd,
A happiness of an immortal kind,
Wide as his wishes, ample as his mind.

Earth never can bestow the sov'reign good;
The sacred word, unerring, points the road,
To happiness, to glory, and to God.

But foolish mortals oft mistake the way,
In search of bliss on earth, we anxious stray,
And take a meteor for the lamp of day.

Phantoms of pleasure rise, and smiling fair,
They tempt our feet through labyrinths of care,
Till catching at the prize we grasp the air.

Almighty goodness, call our hearts and eyes
From these deluding, tempting vanities,
And upward bid our ardent wishes rise.

O bid each fatal, fair illusion flee,
Mark out our path from ev'ry error free,
And let us seek for bliss, alone, in thee.