Thro' all thy conflicts, may the hand of power,
Lead thee in safety on the devious way;
And match around thee, thro' each varying hour,
Thy guard and guide unto the latest day.

Those tender plants the pledges of our love,
True to themselves, as to known duty true,
By thy example led, oh! may they prove,
The joys of virtue; and her paths pursue.

As oft, at early dawn, or evening's close,
These widely, waving woods, I pensive trace,
This tender wish within my bosom flows,
In love unbounded still by time or space.

Not this Atlantic's vast extended flood,
Encircling many an Isle in his embrace;
Nor these wide forests that have ages stood,
A shade and shelter to an Indian race;

Not all the deeps where oceans waves combine,
With ev'ry forests broad extended space,
More widely spread than does that love divine,
Which, as it flows, embraces every race.

With its mild influence cloth'd, the mind can view,
All human kind with one benignant eye;
Whate'er their nation, or whate'er their hue,
For suffering man the heart can heave a sigh.

Behold yon slave with wretchedness cast down,
Torn from his wife and children's weeping eye,
He toils unpitied in a land unknown,
And eats his bitter bread with many a sigh.

Free and untainted, from its source sublime,
Tho' the pure current of the gospel flows;
Yet what avails it to this favour'd clime,
If man, obdurate still, no pity knows!