Our rarest prizes, beautiful & sweet,—
Belovèd friends & kindred the most dear—
In the mutations of this mortal sphere
Give anxious hearts & thoughts with care replete;
So the rich miser lives in dread to meet
Loss & disaster that seem hovering near;
The more our treasures are the more we fear
Thieving reverse will come on silent feet
And beggar us; But not the less we cling
To the heart’s wealth, & trust the Infinite Love
That gave will guard it, & though perils bring
The trustful love to the bowers above:
Whatever fate may mar our fortunes here
All that has served the soul, in heavens will re-appear!
