Yet I can pray for thee and thine, when to my God I kneel;
And, gentle lady, well I know thou wilt not, wouldst not, blame,
Instead of song that I should blend God’s blessings with thy name.
May every joy that life can give, around thy path be strewn,
May its young morn to thee foreshow a bright and happy noon;
And when thy last sweet song on earth in lapses faint is given,
Oh may it be a prelude soft to deathless strains in Heaven!
AMERICAN INDIANS.
WITH AN ENGRAVING.