Now that all hearts are glad, all faces bright,
Our aged Sovereign sits;--to the ebb and flow
Of states and kingdoms, to their joy or woe,
Insensible;--he sits deprived of sight,
And lamentably wrapt in twofold night,
Whom no weak hopes deceived,--whose mind ensued,
Through perilous war, with regal fortitude,
Peace that should claim respect from lawless Might.
Dread King of Kings, vouchsafe a ray divine
To his forlorn condition! let thy grace
Upon his inner soul in mercy shine;
Permit his heart to kindle, and embrace
(Though it were only for a moment's space)
The triumphs of this hour; for they are THINE!
Design, coding, and editing: Copyright © 1997 by James M. Garrett. All rights reserved.