| | There's not a leaf within the bower, There's not a bird upon the tree, There's not a dew-drop on the flower, But bears the impress, Lord, of Thee! Thy hand the varied leaf design'd, And gave the bird its thrilling tone; Thy power the dew-drops' tints combined, Till like a diamond's blaze they shone! Yes, dew-drops, leaves, and buds, and all— The smallest, like the greatest things— The sea's vast space, the earth's wide ball, Alike proclaim thee King of Kings. But man alone to bounteous heaven Thanksgiving's conscious strains can raise; To favour'd man alone 'tis given, To join the angelic choir in praise! |
