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Joy! What a thought sublime. Exalt the heart 'pon feathered wings.
Joy! What a thought divine. Exalt the heart as chorus sings.
Joy! Mayest thou be found where humble hearts crawl ' pon the floors?
Joy! Mayest thou be found where broken hearts face slamming doors?
Joy! O' thought sublime. Art thou fleeting as a passing day?
Joy! O' thought divine. Dost thou leave alone, or wilt thou ever stay?
Joy! Art thou mutable as I, to ever change as changing time?
Joy! Art thou, and thy smiling face, merely thought sublime?
     Or art Thou every Thought Divine?
     Pure mind of Christ! Joy! Art Thou mine?
     Art Thou that Light of God's Son-shine?
     Pure Light of Christ! Joy! Art Thou mine?

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