’Tis found in our troubles, ’tis mixed with our pleasures,
’Tis laid up above with our heavenly treasures;
’Tis whispered in heaven, and ’tis muttered in hell,
And it findeth a place in each sybilline spell;
In Paradise nestled, ’mid Eden’s fair flowers,
It has sported with Eve in rose-perfumed bowers;
’Tis muttered in curses, yet breathed in our prayers;
From the path of our duty it tempts us in snares.
Deep, deep in our hearts you will find it engraved;
Though in misery sunk, yet from sin it is saved.
’Tis found in the stream that flows on to the ocean;
Though in bustle forever, ’tis ne’er in commotion.
’Tis wafted afar o’er the land in each breath;
In the grave ’tis decaying—you'll find it in death.
It is floating away on the broad stream of time,
Yet it findeth a place in eternity’s clime.
In the legends of nations it holdeth a place;
There’s no charm without it to the beautiful face.
In thunder you'll hear it, if closely you listen;
In moonbeam and sunbeam forever ’twill glisten.
In the dew-drop it sparkles; ’tis found in the forest;
It whispers in peace when our need is the sorest.
What am I?