Far from the world, O Lord, I flee,
From strife and tumult far;
From scenes where Satan wages still
His most successful war.

The calm retreat, the silent shade,
With prayer and praise agree,
And seem by Thy sweet bounty made
For those who follow Thee.

There, if Thy spirit touch the soul,
And grace her mean abode,
O, with what peace and joy, and love,
She communes with her God.

Recordings none