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By the persuasion of her fervent eye, All eloquent with child-like piety, By the still beauty of her life, she strove To win for heaven, and heaven-born truth, the love Pour'd out on her so freely.—Nor in vain Was that soft-breathing influence to enchain The soul in gentle bonds: by slow degrees Light follow'd on, as when a summer breeze Parts the deep masses of the forest shade And lets the sunbeam through:—her voice was made Ev'n such a breeze; and she, a lowly guide, By faith and sorrow rais'd and purified, So to the Cross her Indian fosterers led, Until their prayers were one. When morning spread O'er the blue lake, and when the sunset's glow Touch'd into golden bronze the cypress-bough, And when the quiet of the Sabbath time Sank on her heart, tho' no melodious chime Waken'd the wilderness, their prayers were one. —Now might she pass in hope, her work was done.