THIS placid lake, my gentle girl,
Be emblem of thy life,
As full of peace, and purity,
As free from care and strife;
No ripple, on its tranquil breast,
That dies not, with the day;
No pebble, in its darkest depths,
But quivers, in its ray.
And see, bow every glorious form,
And pageant of the skies,
Reflected, from its glassy face,
A mirrored image lies;
So be thy spirit, ever pure,
To God, to virtue, given;
And thought, and word, and action, bear
The imagery of Heaven.