I send the joys of earth away,
Away, ye tempt­ers of the mind;
False as the smooth, de­ceit­ful sea,
And emp­ty as the whist­ling wind.

Your streams were float­ing me along
Down the gulf of dark des­pair;
And whilst I list­ened to your song,
Your streams had e’en con­veyed me there.

Lord, I adore Thy match­less grace,
That warned me of that dark abyss,
That drew me from those trea­cher­ous seas,
And bade me seek su­pe­ri­or bliss.

Now to the shin­ing realms above
I stretch my hands and glance my eyes;
O for the pin­ions of a dove,
To bear me to the up­per skies!

There from the bo­som of my God
Oceans of end­less plea­sure roll;
There would I fix my last abode,
And drown the sor­rows of my soul.