The Teacher’s look, with mild, grave wisdom fraught.
How was the awakened soul within thee stirred
To suppliant or adoring tones, as fell
The quickening power of the Eternal Word,
Like the winged seed, on thy young heart; to dwell
A germ not lost! A heavenly light serene,
Unclouded, sits on thy soft, spiritual mien—
I call thee Blest, for thou hast chosen well,
Daughter of Christ! O, happy to have given
The bloom of thy unblighted years to Heaven!