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.