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 | The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley |  |
SOLITUDE.
From the Latin.
Solitude! where shall I find
Thee, pleasing to the thoughtful mind?
Sweet delights to thee belong,
Untasted by the vulgar throng.
Weary of vice and noise I flee,
Sweetest comforter, to thee.
Here the mild and holy dove
Peace inspires and joy and love.
Thy unmolested, silent shade
No tumultuous sounds invade:
No stain of guilt is seen in thee,
To soil thy spotless purity.
Here the smiling fields around
Softest harmony resound.
Here, with angel choirs combined,
The lord of his own peaceful mind
Glides through life, from business far,
And noisy strife, and eating care.
Here, retired from pomp and state,
(The envied torment of the great,)
Innocent he leads his days,
Far from giddy thirst of praise.
Here, his accounts with studious care
Preparing for his last great bar,
He weeps the stains of guilt away,
And ripens for eternal day.
Thee, pleasing to the thoughtful mind?
Sweet delights to thee belong,
Untasted by the vulgar throng.
Weary of vice and noise I flee,
Sweetest comforter, to thee.
7
Peace inspires and joy and love.
Thy unmolested, silent shade
No tumultuous sounds invade:
No stain of guilt is seen in thee,
To soil thy spotless purity.
Here the smiling fields around
Softest harmony resound.
Here, with angel choirs combined,
The lord of his own peaceful mind
Glides through life, from business far,
And noisy strife, and eating care.
Here, retired from pomp and state,
(The envied torment of the great,)
Innocent he leads his days,
Far from giddy thirst of praise.
Here, his accounts with studious care
Preparing for his last great bar,
He weeps the stains of guilt away,
And ripens for eternal day.
Hoarded wealth desire who please,
Towers and gilded palaces.
Fraudless silence may I find,
Solitude and peace of mind;
To all the busy world unknown,
Seen and loved by God alone.
Towers and gilded palaces.
Fraudless silence may I find,
Solitude and peace of mind;
To all the busy world unknown,
Seen and loved by God alone.
Ye rich, ye learn'd, ye great, confess
This in life is happiness,
To live (unknown to all abroad)
To myself only and my God.
This in life is happiness,
To live (unknown to all abroad)
To myself only and my God.
| The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley | |