Oh! yonder I see a beacon light gleaming,
O’er the dark wave its lustre is beaming,
Dear mother! as the light to the mariner lost,
So thou to the bark on the billow tossed.
My lot has been to meet
The bitter mixed with transient sweet;
To struggle on, in toil and care,
The tide of adverse fate to bear.
Oh! yonder I see a tender vine, twining
Around a tree, its tendrils are shining;