Within my infant breast paternal care
The living seed of young devotion planted,
And watched and watered it—and prayed and panted,
That it might spring and bud and blossom there.
‘Twas timid, unobtrusive,—for it wanted
The guidance of some mild interpreter
To give its breathings utterance—form its prayer,
And guide its heavenward tendency. ‘Twas granted!
Thy hand led on the trembling wanderer,—
Thy voice spoke sweet encouragement—the boy
Ripened into man, and now delights to bring
To its old shrine a spring-tide offering:
Accept it! ’tis the grateful votary’s joy
To blend his name with thine in union here.
(John Bowring)
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