Tell me no more of earth­ly toys,
Of sin­ful mirth, and car­nal joys,
The things I loved be­fore;
Let me but view my Sav­ior’s face,
And feel His ani­mat­ing grace,
And I de­sire no more.

Tell me no more of praise and wealth,
Tell me no more of ease and health,
For these have all their snares;
Let me but know my sins for­giv’n,
But see my name en­rolled in Heav’n,
And I am free from cares.

Tell me no more of lof­ty towers,
Delightful gar­dens, frag­rant bow­ers,
For these are trif­ling things;
The lit­tle room for me de­signed
Will suit as well my ea­sy mind,
As pa­lac­es of kings.

Tell me no more of crowd­ing guests,
Of sump­tu­ous feasts and gau­dy dress,
Extravagance and waste;
My lit­tle table, on­ly spread
With whole­some herbs and whole­some bread.
Will bet­ter suit my taste.

Give me the Bi­ble in my hand,
A heart to read and un­der­stand,
And faith to trust the Lord;
I’d set alone from day to day,
Or urge no com­pa­ny to stay,
Nor wish to rove abroad.