1 Lord, how secure and bless'd are they Who feel the joys of pardon'd sin! Should storms of wrath shake earth and sea, Their minds have heaven and peace within.
2 The day glides sweetly o'er their heads, Made up of innocence and love; And soft and silent as the shades Their nightly minutes gently move.
3 [Quick as their thoughts their joys come on, But fly not half so fast away; Their souls are ever bright as noon, And calm as summer evenings be.
4 How oft they look to th' heavenly hills, Where groves of living pleasure grow! And longing hopes and cheerful smiles Sit undisturb'd upon their brow.]
5 They scorn to seek our golden toys, But spend the day and share the night In numbering o'er the richer joys That heaven prepares for their delight.
6 While wretched we, like worms and moles, Lie grovelling in the dust below: Almighty grace, renew our souls, And we'll aspire to glory too.