Classic Poem

Hark, my soul, how everything
Strives to serve our bounteous King!
Each a double tribute pays,—
Sings its part, and then obeys.

Nature's chief and sweetest quire
Him with cheerful notes admire;
Chanting every day their lauds,
While the grove their song applauds.

Though their voices lower be,
Streams have too their melody;
Night and day they warbling run,
Never pause, but still sing on.

All the flowers that gild the Spring
Hither their still music bring;
If Heaven bless them, thankful, they
Smell more sweet, and look more gay.

Wake, for shame, my sluggish heart,
Wake, and gladly sing thy part;
Learn of birds, and springs, and flowers,
How to use thy nobler powers!