The hea­vens in­vite mine eye,
The stars sa­lute me round;
Father, I blush, I mourn to lie
Thus gro­vel­ing on the ground.

My warm­er spir­its move,
And make at­tempts to fly;
I wish aloud for wings of love
To raise me swift and high.

Beyond those crys­tal vaults,
And all their spark­ling balls;
They’re but the porch­es to Thy courts,
And paint­ings of Thy walls.

Vain world, fare­well to you;
Heaven is my na­tive air;
I bid my friends a short adieu,
Impatient to be there.

I feel my pow­ers re­leased
From their old fleshy clod;
Fair guard­ian, bear me up in haste,
And set me near my God.