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.