Britain ... - Blue-Lite

238 THE DEVOTED ONE.
Not the proudest regal maid,
In transcendent pomp arrayed,
By her kingly bridegroom led
To his golden-curtained bed,
May in glory rival thee,
Made the bride of Deity !
Earth no more shall thee betray,
Its proud pageants fade away
In Religion's purer light,
As the stars that die with night.
Youth in all its charms expires,
Love dies in its own desires ;
But the fervour of our hearts
Burns more bright as life departs,
And angel visions all divine,
On our broken slumbers shine.
Safely hast thou reached the shore
Of that happy land of rest,
Where the storms of life no more
Shall thy sacred peace molest.