1 How vain are all things here below!
How false, and yet how fair!
Each pleasure hath its poison too,
And every sweet a snare.
2 The brightest things below the sky
Give but a flatt'ring light;
We should suspect some danger nigh
Where we possess delight.
3 Our dearest joys, and nearest friends,
The partners of our blood,
How they divide our wavering minds,
And leave but half for God!
4 Dear Saviour, let Thy beauties be
My soul's eternal food;
And grace command my heart away
From all created good.
Source: Book of Worship (Rev. ed.) #414