And o’er the pathless ocean took their course
To the wild shores of a far distant clime;
There, no proud king or haughty priest has power,
To mar their quiet peace and pious prayers.
Now, happy homes and fertile fields arose
On those far shores, and pointing to the heavens
The tall church spire reflected the bright sun;
The sons of God had gathered here, but, as
It was, in ancient time, when Satan came
Amidst their councils, and, with wily art