O thou dread Power, who reign'st above!
I know thou wilt me hear,
When for this scene of peace and love
I make my prayer sincere.
The hoary sire, the mortal stroke,
Long, long, be pleased to spare;
To bless his filial little flock
And show what good men are.
She who her lovely offspring eyes
With tender hopes and fears,
O, bless her with a mother's joys,
But spare a mother's tears!
Their hope, their stay, their darling youth,
In manhood's dawning blush,
Bless him, thou GOD of love and truth,
Up to a parent's wish!
The beauteous, seraph sister-band,
With earnest tears I pray,
Thous know'st the snares on ev'ry hand,
Guide Thou their steps alway.
When soon or late they reach that coast,
O'er life's rough ocean driven,
May they rejoice, no wanderer lost,
A family in Heaven!