Full Lyrics
Ye humble souls, complain no more,
Let faith survey your future store;
How happy, how divinely blest,
The sacred words of truth attest.
When conscious grief laments sincere,
And pours the penitential tear;
Hope points to your dejected eyes,
The bright reversion in the skies.
In vain the sons of wealth and pride
Despise your lot, your hopes deride:
In vain they boast their little stores,
Trifles are theirs, a kingdom yours.
A kingdom of immense delight,
Where health, and peace, and joy unite,
Where undeclining pleasures rise,
And every wish hath full supplies.
