Hymnal: CPHP1789 #CXVII (1789) Lyrics: 1 If solid happiness we prize,
Within our breasts this jewel lies,
And they are fools who roam;
The world has little to bestow,
From our own selves our joys must flow,
Our bliss begins at home.
2 We'll therefore relish with content
Whate'er kind Providence hath sent,
Nor aim beyond our pow'r;
And if our store of wealth be small,
With thankful hearts enjoy it all,
Nor lose the present hour.
3 To be resign'd, when ills betide,
Patient, when favours are deny'd,
And pleas'd with favours giv'n;
This is the wise, the virtuous part,
This is that incense of the heart,
Whose fragrance reaches heav'n.
4 Thus, crown'd with peace, thro' life we'll go,
Its chequer'd paths of joy and wo
With cautious steps we'll tread;
Quit its vain scenes without a tear,
Without a trouble or a fear,
And mingle with the dead.
5 While Conscience, like a faithful friend,
Shall thro' the gloomy vale attend,
And cheer our dying breath;
Shall, when all other comforts cease,
Like a kind angel whisper peace,
And smooth the bed of death. Topics: Faith, Holiness and moral Virtues Contentment Languages: English
If solid happiness we prize
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