How Vain Are All Things Here Below

How vain are all things here below!
How false, and yet how fair!
Each pleasure hath its poison too,
And every sweet a snare.

The brightest things below the sky
Give but a flatt’ring light;
We should suspect some danger nigh
Where we possess delight.

Our dearest joys, and nearest friends,
The partners of our blood,
How they divide our wavering minds,
And leave but half for God!

Dear Saviour, let Thy beauties be
My soul’s eternal food;
And grace command my heart away
From all created good.