O! ’tis a sacred, sweet and fearful duty
To train these earth-born spirits for the skies!
To keep this household flower green in its beauty,
Till it in Paradise transplanted rise.
May He, who took the nurslings in his arms,
Keep thee and thine, his richest grace revealing,
Hid, as his Pilgrims, from the world’s alarms,
Where quiet brooks in pastures green are stealing!