Its crown, in endless matrimony given;
The youthful mother there hath to the font
Her first-born borne, and there, with deeper sense
Of gratitude for that dear babe redeem’d
From threatening death, return’d to pay her vows.
But ne’er on nuptial, nor baptismal day,
Nor from their grateful pilgrimage discharged,
Did happier group their way down Deva’s vale
Rejoicing hold, than this blest family,
O’er whom the mighty Spirit of the Land