For thee, my country! but I might not dwell
In thy sweet vales at peace. The voice of song
Breathes with the myrtle scent, thy hills along;
The citron's glow is caught from shade and dell;
But what are these? upon thy flowery sod

I might not kneel, and pour my free thoughts out to God.

Is it not much that I may worship Him

With nought my spirit's breathings to control?

I will, I will rejoice! My soaring soul

Now hath redeemed her birthright of the day,

And won through clouds to Him her own unfettered way,

MRS. H

BIBL

SECOND EDITION.

LONDON:

MITH, ELDER AND CO., CORNHILL.

1834.

IOT