I think of thee in morning’s beaming light,
In burning noon and shadowy night.
Dear mother! mid all my thoughtless wanderings wild,
Still clings to thee thy devoted child.
Whate’er my future lot may be,
On life’s tempestuous trackless sea,
Oh, may I never, where’er I roam,
Forget the cheering light of home,
That blessed light to the wanderer given,
To guide the way that leads to Heaven.