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текст песни (слова) "Lynnfield"
My God, permit me not to be A stranger to myself and thee; Amidst a thousand thoughts I rove, Forgetful of my highest love. Why should my passions mix with earth, And thus debase my heavenly birth? Why should I cleave to things below, And let my God, my Savior, go? Call me away from flesh and sense, One sovereign word can draw me thence; I would obey the voice divine, And all inferior joys resign. Be earth with all her scenes withdrawn, Let noise and vanity begone; In secret silence of the mind My heaven, and there my God, I find.