These are life's common scenes—thy regal dower
Were but a drop flung in a boundless sea;
But thou mayst lead the way—the pomp of power
Will make the careless many follow thee.
From glowing Ind to Huron's waters spreading
Extends the empire that our sword hath won,
There have our sails been peace and knowledge shedding,
Upon thy sceptre never sets the sun.
A nobler triumph still awaits thy winning,
"The mind's ethereal war is in its birth;
The Cross of Christ is on its way, beginning
Its glorious triumph o'er the darken'd earth.
Gods blessing be upon thee, Royal Maiden!
And be thy throne heaven's altar here below,
With sweet thanksgivings, and with honours laden,
Of moral victories o'er want and wo.
Glorious and happy be thy coming hours,
Young Daughter of old England’s Royal line!
As in an angels pathway spring up flowers,
So may a nation's blessing spring in thine."
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