An Evening Walk

From the philosophic grove,
Where enlarg'd ideas rove,
In earth, or air, collecting sweets divine:
Or the lonely rural cell,
Where the humble virtues dwell,
Unenvy'd dwell; and yet how fair they shine!

Meditation, pleasing guest!
Come to this desiring breast,
And make it, like the ev'ning air, serene!
See, what cheerful verdure spreads
O'er the fields, and o'er the meads,
And trace the beauties of the vernal scene.

Beauties, ah how short their boast!
Now they bloom— and now they're lost,
And all that looks so gay, shall cease to charm:
— Melancholy thought — away—
Not in vain is nature gay,
She bids expectant hope the bosom warm.

Hope with ever-cheerful eye
O'er yon verdant fields can spy
Fair plenty pour profuse the future bread:
On the rosy-blossom'd trees,
Smiling — fading — now she sees
Autumnal fruits, their richer beauties spread.

Meditation, come away,
Hope attends thee, ever gay;
Come, sweet companions, tune my artless lays!
Nature's every various grace,
While my thoughts with wonder trace,
O may that wonder wake my heart to praise!

Can I view with languid thought,
All the scene with blessings fraught,
Not own the bounteous hand from whence they flow?
See, how wisdom, goodness, pow'r,
Join to bid my heart adore,
And pay the debt of praise I hourly owe!

Praise, a tribute ah how poor!
Language, what is all thy store,
My boundless obligations to display?
Bid the earth-born reptile try,
Looking upward to the sky
To count the blessings of the source of day

Faint are all the notes I raise,
Lord, accept my wish to praise!
To thee my heart, to thee my all belongs:
Thy inspiring grace impart,
Teach the breathings of my heart
To praise thee better than my feeble songs