There's not a leaf within the bower; There's not a bird upon the tree; There's not a dewdrop on the flower, But bears the impress, Lord! of Thee. Thy hand the varied leaf design'd, And gave the bird its thrilling tone: Thy power the dewdrop's tints combined, Till like a diamond's blaze they shone. Yes: dewdrops, leaves, and birds, and all, The smallest like the greatest things; The sea's vast space, the earth's wide ball, Alike proclaim Thee King of Kings. But man alone to bounteous Heaven Thanksgiving's conscious strains can raise; To favour'd man alone't is given To join the angelic choir in praise. |