I saw her in the cradle, as she looked on me, and smiled.
My cup of happiness was full; my joy, no words can tell,
And I bless the Glorious Giver, "who doeth all things well."
Months passed, that bud of promise, was unfolding every hour.
I thought that earth had never smiled upon a fairer flower.
So beautiful! it well might grace the bowers, where angels dwell,
And waft its fragrance to His throne, "who doeth all things well."
Years fled; that little sister then was dear as life to me,
And woke, in my unconscious heart a wild idolatry.
I worshipped at an earthly shrine, lured by some magic spell,