|
|
| |
|
Yet thence, in smaller parties drawn,
the sea recovers her lost hills;
And starting springs from ev'ry lawn
surprise the vales with plenteous rills.
The fields' tame beasts are thither led,
weary with labor, faint with drought:
And asses, on wild mountains bred,
have sense to find these currents out.
Their shady trees, from scorching beams,
yield shelter to the feathered throng;
They drink, and to the bounteous streams
return the tribute of their song.
His rains from heav'n parched hills recruit,
that soon transmit the liquid store,
Till earth is burdened with her fruit,
and nature's lap can hold no more.
Grass for our cattle to devour,
he makes the growth of ev'ry field;
Herbs for man's use, of various pow'r,
that either food or physic yield.
With clustered grapes he crowns the vine,
to cheer man's heart, oppressed with cares.
Gives oil that makes his face to shine,
and corn that wasted strength repairs.
|
marker 99
|
LYRICS
|
Meter:
|
8 8 8 8 (L.M.)
|
|
Writer(s):
|
|
|
Trans/Adapted:
|
| |
Dates:
|
1696,1821
|
|
Bible Refs:
|
Ps 104:10-15;
|
LIST OF LYRIC SOURCES
|
Hymn/Song Book
|
Year
|
Song #
|
| 1821 | # 104 |
MUSIC
|
Name:
|
SEASONS
|
|
Meter:
|
8 8 8 8 (L.M.)
|
|
Writer(s):
|
|
|
Dates:
|
|
LIST OF MUSIC SOURCES
|
Hymn/Song Book
|
Song #
|
Key
|
| # 800 | Ab |
echo ' | ';
|
Hymn Writer
