|Stanza||Poetry Source by First Line|
My soul forsakes her vain delight,
And bids the world farewell,
Based as the dirt beneath thy feet,
And mischievous as hell.
No longer will I ask your love,
Nor seek your friendship more;
The happiness that I approve,
Is not within your pow’r.
My Soul forsakes her vain Delight,, Stanza 1 & 2
Where pleasure rolls its living flood,
From sin and dross refined,
Still springing from the throne of God,
And fit to cheer the mind;
Th’ Almighty Ruler of the sphere,
The glorious and the great,
Brings his own all-sufficience there,
To make our bliss complete.
My Soul forsakes her vain Delight,, Stanza 4 & 5
There’s nothing round this spacious earth
That suits my soul’s desire;
To boundless joy and solid mirth
My nobler thoughts aspire.
O, for the pinions of a dove
To mount the heav’nly road;
There shall I share my Savior’s love,
There shall I dwell with God.
My Soul forsakes her vain Delight,, Stanza 3 & 6