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,