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Happy were they, the mothers, in whose sight Ye grew, fair children! hallowed from that hour By your Lord's blessing! surely thence a shower Of heavenly beauty, a transmitted light Hung on your brows and eyelids, meekly bright, Through all the after years, which saw ye move Lowly, yet still majestic, in the might, The conscious glory of the Saviour's love! And honoured be all childhood, for the sake Of that high love! Let reverential care Watch to behold the immortal spirit wake, And shield its first bloom from unholy air; Owning, in each young suppliant glance, the sign Of claims upon a heritage divine.