Like unto a statue seen
Of some gentle, loving queen!
Whatsoe'er thy name or station,
Thine, sweet maid, 's a blest vocation;
'Neath the dome that God hath spread
All above and round thy head;
Taking in the healthful breeze
From the mountain-tops and trees;
Thou dost toil from day to day,
Knowing that "to work's to pray!"