A guardian power and a guiding light.
It hath led the freeman forth to stand
In the mountain-battles of his land;
It hath brought the wanderer o’er the seas
To die on the hills of his own fresh breeze;
And back to the gates of his father’s hall
It hath led the weeping prodigal.
Yes! when thy heart, in its pride, would stray
From the pure first-loves of its youth away—
When the sullying breath of the world would come