I am not found on any ground, But always in the air; Though charged each cloud with thunder loud, You can not find me there. Now, if from France you choose to dance Your way just into Spain, I there am seen, and near the queen, In hail, in mist, and rain.
’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.