2.
There stands a stone, a rounded stone,
’Midst ocean’s surges hoary,
On which sweet Jesus set his foot
When mounting to his glory.
There grows a rose, a blooming rose,
’Midst ocean’s briny waters,
That o’er may pass, to hear the mass,
Havanah’s dusky daughters.
* * * * *
London:
Printed for THOMAS J. WISE, Hampstead, N.W.
Edition limited to Thirty Copies.