1 Send the joys of earth away, Away ye tempters of the mind, False as the smooth deceitful sea, And empty as the whistling wind.
2 Your streams were floating me along Down to the gulf of black despair, And whilst I listen'd to your song, Your streams had e'en convey'd me there.
3 Lord, I adore thy matchless grace, That warn'd me of that dark abyss, That drew me from those treacherous seas, And bid me seek superior bliss.
4 Now to the shining realms above I stretch my hands, and glance mine eyes; O for the pinions of a dove To bear me to the upper skies.
5 There from the bosom of my God Oceans of endless pleasure roll; There would I fix my last abode, And drown the sorrows of my soul.