There seems a voice in every gale,
A tongue in every flower,
Which tells, O Lord, the wondrous tale
Of Thy almighty power.
The birds, that rise on quivering wing,
Proclaim their maker’s praise,
And all the mingling sounds of spring
To Thee an anthem raise.
Shall I be mute, great God, alone
’Midst nature’s loud acclaim?
Shall not my heart, with answering tone,
Breathe forth Thy holy name?
All nature’s debt is small to mine;
Nature shall cease to be;
Thou gavest proof of love divine,
Immortal life to me.