My soul forsakes her vain delight,

And bids the world farewell,

Base as the dirt beneath my feet,

And mischievous as hell.

No longer will I ask your love,

Nor seek your friendship more;

The happiness that I approve

Lies not within your power.

There's nothing round this spacious earth

That suits my large desire

To boundless joy and solid mirth

My nobler thoughts aspire.

[Where pleasure rolls its living flood,

From sin and dross refined,

Still springing from the throne of God,

And fit to cheer the mind;

Th' Almighty Ruler of the sphere,

The glorious and the great,

Brings his own all-sufficience there,

To make our bliss complete.]

Had I the pinions of a dove,

I'd climb the heav'nly road;

There sits my Savior dressed in love,

And there my smiling God.