O THOU dread Power, who reignst above,
I know thou wilt me hear,
When for this scene of peace and love,
I make this prayer sincere.
The hoary Sirethe mortal stroke,
Long, long be pleasd to spare;
To bless this little filial flock,
And show what good men are.
She, who her lovely offspring eyes
With tender hopes and fears,
O bless her with a mothers joys,
But spare a mothers tears!
Their hope, their stay, their darling youth.
In manhoods dawning blush,
Bless him, Thou God of love and truth,
Up to a parents wish.
The beauteous, seraph sister-band
With earnest tears I pray
Thou knowst the snares on evry hand,
Guide Thou their steps alway.
When, soon or late, they reach that coast,
Oer Lifes rough ocean driven,
May they rejoice, no wandrer lost,
A family in Heaven!
