7 
And many a summer’s bravery 
Each ample bough shall grace, 
And many an angry winter's storm 
Thy hoary vigour brace, 
Unless at call of “ hearts of oak” 
Beneath the axe thou bow, 
To bear the brunt of battle’s rage 
And thunder on the foe. 
To thee but little recks it 
What seasons come or go, 
Thou lovest to breathe the gale of spring 
And bask in summer’s glow, 
But more to feel the wintry winds 
Sweep by in awful mirth, 
For well thou know’st each blast will fix 
Thy roots more deep in earth. 
Would that to me life’s changes 
Did thus with blessings come ! 
That mercies might, like gale of spring, 
Cause some new grace to bloom ! 
And that the storm which scattereth 
Each earth-born hope abroad, 
Might anchor those of holier birth 
More firmly on my God! 
b 4 
