Classic Poem

I would lie low, the ground on which men tread,
Swept by thy spirit like the wind of heaven;
An earth where gushing springs and corn for bread
By me at every season should be given;
Yet not the water and the bread that now
Supplies their tables with its daily food;
But Thou wouldst give me fruit for every bough,
Such as Thou givest me, and call'st it good;
And water from the stream of life should flow,
By every dwelling that thy love has built;
Whose taste the ransomed of thy son shall know,
Whose robes are washed from every stain of guilt;
And men would own it was thy hand that blest,
And from my bosom find a surer rest.