Cast o’er my dreams a radiant hue;
Thy tears, “such tears as angels weep,”
Fall nightly with the glistening dew.
Thy fingers wake my youthful lyre,
And teach its softer strains to flow;
Thy spirit checks each vain desire,
And gilds the lowering brow of woe.
. . . . . . . . . .
Thou gem of light! my leading star!
What thou hast been I strive to be;