1 How vain are all things here below! How false, and yet how fair! Each pleasure hath its poison too, And every sweet a snare.
2 The brightest things below the sky Give but a flattering light; We should suspect some danger nigh Where we possess delight.
3 Our dearest joys, and nearest friends, The partners of our blood, How they divide our wavering minds, And leave but half for God!
4 The fondness of a creature's love, How strong it strikes the sense! Thither the warm affections move, Nor can we call them thence.
5 Dear Saviour, let thy beauties be My soul's eternal food; And grace command my heart away From all created good.