1 Bleak winter is subdu'd at length,
Compell'd to yield the day:
The sun returning in his strength
Drives all the storms away.
2 Behold the youthful spring is come,
How alter'd is the scene!
The trees and shrubs are dress'd in bloom,
The earth array'd in green.
3 Where'er we tread, beneath our feet
The flowers spontaneous spring;
And warbling birds, in concert sweet,
Invite our hearts to sing.
4 But, ah! in vain I strive to join,
Oppress'd with sin and doubt;
I feel 'tis winter still within,
Though all is spring without.
5 Oh! would my Saviour from on high
Break through these clouds and shine!
No creature then more blest than I,
No song more loud than mine.
6 Till then--no softy-warbling thrush,
Nor cowslips' sweet perfume,
Nor beauties of each painted bush,
Can dissipate my gloom.