Something of a trial,

Why, the rosy light, that peeps

Through the glass above her,

Lingers round her lips:—you see

E'en the sunbeams love her.

So to make my merit more,

I'll go beyond the letter;

Love my neighbor as myself?

Yes, and ten times better.

For she's sweeter than the breath

Of the Spring, that passes

Through the fragrant, budding woods,

O'er the meadow-grasses.

And I've preached the word I know,

For it was my duty

To convert the stubborn heart

Of the little beauty.

Once again success has crowned

Missionary labor,

For her sweet eyes own that she

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