vin

viii

QUIET HOURS.

NATURE.

HYMN OF NATURE.

HARK, my soul, how every thing

Strives to serve our bounteous King;

Each a double tribute pays,
Sings its part, and then obeys.

Nature's chief and sweetest choir
Him with cheerful notes admire;
Chanting every day their lauds,
While the grove their song applauds.

Though their voices lower be,
Streams have, too, their melody;
Night and day they warbling run,
Never pause, but still sing on.

All the flowers that gild the spring
Hither their still music bring;
If Heaven bless them, thankful they
Smell more sweet, and look more gay.