For Her Majesty

Jesus, with complacence see
Her our faith presents to Thee:
Her the choicest gift of heaven,
To our favour'd monarch given.

Given, his joys and griefs to share,
Every toil and every care;
Bom to soften his distress.
Born to' ensure his happiness.

Her Thou hast on all bestow'd.
Lovely minister of good;
Her in our flagitious days,
Beautified with every grace.

Virtuous, wise, without pretence,
Meek as lamb-like innocence;
Rival of the saints above.
Object of a nation's love.

Malice ventures not to blame,
Envy sickens at her name;
General praise is Charlottes right,
Parties all in this unite.

Neither man, nor God they spare,
Yet they all are friends to her;
Strangest sight that earth can show.
Goodness lives — without a foe!

Happy that she long may Hve,
Jesus, all Thy blessings give;
Partner of the British throne,
Count her worthy of Thine own.