TO RALPH, ON HIS SIXTEENTH BIRTHDAY.
109
From this sweet gem my child may learn
Love's own deep incense to distill;
Let now thy heart with rapture burn,
Thy heart, to do thy Maker's will.
Love's own deep incense to distill;
Let now thy heart with rapture burn,
Thy heart, to do thy Maker's will.
And with these thoughts, flowers I would bind,
The mountain laurel round thy brow,
Where the dear Saviour's cross was signed—
That solemn hour remember'st thou?
Go forth and touch His outspread hand,
Renew those vows we for thee made,
And then this spirit will expand
Thy soul; to this let me persuade.
The mountain laurel round thy brow,
Where the dear Saviour's cross was signed—
That solemn hour remember'st thou?
Go forth and touch His outspread hand,
Renew those vows we for thee made,
And then this spirit will expand
Thy soul; to this let me persuade.
Too soon the rosy crown of youth,
Too soon will vanish, flee away;
Resolve to walk steadfast in truth,
On this, thy sixteenth natal day;
A birth from sin, temptation free,
And power to triumph, lest thou fall;
And more, my child, I'd ask for thee,
From Him who reigneth o'er us all.
Too soon will vanish, flee away;
Resolve to walk steadfast in truth,
On this, thy sixteenth natal day;
A birth from sin, temptation free,
And power to triumph, lest thou fall;
And more, my child, I'd ask for thee,
From Him who reigneth o'er us all.
