CROWNED.

Her thoughts are sweet glimpses of heaven,

Her life is that heaven brought down;

Oh, never to mortal was given

So rare and bejewelled a crown!

I'll wear it as saints wear the glory

That radiantly clasps them above —

Oh, dower most fair!

Oh, diadem rare!

Bright crown of her maidenly love.

My heart is a fane of devotion,

My feelings are converts at prayer,

And every thrill of emotion

Makes dearer the crown I would wear.

My soul in its fulness of rapture

Begins its millennial reign,

Life glows like a sun,

Love's zenith is won,

And Joy is sole monarch again.

My noonday of life is as morning,

God's light streams approvingly down;

Uncovered, I wait her adorning,

She comes with the beautiful crown!

I'll wear it as saints wear the glory

That radiantly clasps them above —

Oh, dower most fair!

Oh, diadem rare!

Bright crown of her maidenly love.