Ye joyous ones, upon whose brow

The light of youth is shed,

O’er whose glad path life’s early flowers

In glowing beauty spread;

Forget not him whose love hath poured

Around that golden light,

And tinged those opening buds of hope

With hues so softly bright.

2 Thou tempted one, just entering

Upon enchanted ground,

Ten thousand snares are spread for thee,

Ten thousand foes surround:

A dark and a deceitful band,

Upon thy path they lower;

Trust not thine own unaided strength

To save thee from their power.

3 Thou whose yet bright and joyous eye

May soon be dimmed with tears,

To whom the hours of bitterness

Must come in coming years;

Teach early thy confiding eye

To pierce the cloudy screen,

To look above the storms, where all

Is holy and serene.