Of all the monarchs of the earth,
That wear the robes of royalty,
She has inherited, by birth,
The broadest wreath of majesty.
From her wide territorial wing,
The sun does not withdraw its light;
While earth’s diurnal motions bring
To other nations day and night.
All earthly thrones are tottering things,
Where lights and shadows intervene;
And regal honour often brings,
The scaffold or the guillotine.
But still her sceptre is approved;
All nations deck the wreath she wears;
Yet, like the youth whom Jesus loved,
One thing is lacking, even there.
But lo a prize possessing more
Of worth, than gems with honor rife—
A herald of salvation bore
To her the words of endless life.
That gift, however fools deride,
Is worthy of her royal care:
She’d better lay her crown aside,
Than spurn the light reflected there.
O would she now her influence bend—
The influence of royalty,
Messiah’s Kingdom to extend,
And Zion’s “nursing mother” be.
Thus, with the glory of her name
Inscribed on Zion’s lofty spire,
She’d win a wreath of endless fame,
To last when other wreaths expire.
Though over millions called to reign,
Herself a powerful nation’s boast,
’t would be her everlasting gain
To serve the King, the Lord of Hosts.
For there are crowns and thrones on high,
And kingdoms there to be conferr’d
There honours wait that never die;
There fame’s immortal trump is heard.
Truth echoes—’t is Jehovah’s word;
Let Kings and Queens and Princess hear:
In distant isles the sound is heard;
Ye heavens rejoice! O earth, give ear!
The time, the time is now at hand
To give a glorious period brith;
The Son of God will take command,
And rule the nations of the earth.