On steady wings, sails through the immense abyss,

Plucks amaranthine joys from bowers of bliss,

And crowns the soul, while yet a mourner here,

With wreaths like those triumphant spirits wear.

Hope, as an anchor, firm and sure, holds fast

The Christian vessel, and defies the blast.

Cowper.

Reflected on the lake, I love

To see the stars of evening glow;

So tranquil in the heavens above,