On God, whose eyes are over all,
Who shows to all a father's care,
First, with each voice, we children call,
And humbly raise our daily prayer.
And next, to her, who placed us here,
The path of knowledge to pursue,
( Oh! witness all we have — a tear! )
Our heartfelt gratitude is due.
Our parents, when they draw their breath,
In pain, and to the grave descend,
Shall smile upon the bed of death,
To think their children have a friend.
As slow our infant thoughts expand,
And life unfolds its opening road,
We still shall bless the bounteous hand
That kind protection first bestowed.
And still, with fervour we shall pray,
When she to distant scenes shall go;
That God, in blessing, might repay
The blessings which to her we owe!