Classic Poem

Hence, lying world, with all thy care,
With all thy shows of good and fair,
Of beautiful or great!
Stand with thy slighted charms aloof,
Nor dare invade my peaceful roof,
Or trouble my retreat.

Far from thy mad fantastic ways
I here have found a resting-place
Of poor wayfaring men:
Calm as the hermit in his grot
I here enjoy my happy lot,
And solid pleasures gain.

Along the hill or dewy mead
In sweet forgetfulness I tread,
Or wander through the grove;
As Adam in his native seat,
In all his works my God! meet,
The object of my love.

I see his beauty in the flower:
To shade my walks and deck my bower
His love and wisdom join;
Him in the feathered choir I hear,
And own, while all my soul is ear,
The music is divine.

In yon unbounded plain I see
A sketch of his immensity
Who spans these ample skies;
Whose presence makes the happy place,
And opens in the wilderness
A blooming paradise.

Oh, would he now himself impart,
And fix the Eden in my heart,
The sense of sin forgiven;
How should I then throw off my load,
And walk delightfully with God,
And follow Christ to heaven!