’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.
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.