The maiden mild,
The matron meek—whose soft low prayer doth lull
Her sleeping child;
The proud and fearless youth, with soul of fire!
Who guides his trembling steps—yon gray-haired sire.
And then came thronging all earth’s gentle spirits —
That minister
Like angels to our hearts—thus they inherit
From Heaven afar —
Their blessed faith of Truth, and love for aye,