There is one harp that any hand can play, And from its strings what harmonies arise! There is one song that any mouth can say. A song that lingers when all singing dies, When on their beds our Mother's children pray, Immortal music charms the grateful skies.

Sweet, blessed beads! I would not part With one of you for rishest gem That gleams in kingly diadem: Ye know the history of my heart.