Return, my rov­ing heart, re­turn,
And chase these sha­dowy forms no more;
Seek out some so­li­tude to mourn,
And thy for­sak­en God im­plore.

Wisdom and plea­sure dwell at home;
Retired and si­lent, seek them there:
True con­quest is our­selves t’o’er­come,
True strength to break the temp­ter’s snare.

And Thou, my God, whose pierc­ing eye
Distinct sur­veys each deep re­cess,
In these ab­stract­ed hours draw nigh,
And with Thy pre­sence fill the place.

Thro’ all the maz­es of my heart,
My search let heav’n­ly wis­dom guide,
And still its ra­di­ant beams im­part,
Till all be searched, and pu­ri­fied.

Then with the vi­sits of Thy love,
Vouchsafe my in­most soul to cheer;
Till ev­ery grace shall join to prove
That God hath fixed His dwell­ing there.