"She is not dead—the child of our affection,
But gone into that school
Where she no longer needs our poor protection,
And Christ Himself doth rule."
"Snatch'd sudden from the avenging rod,
Safe in the bosom of thy God,
How dost thou now look back and smile
On thoughts that bitterest seem'd the while,
And bless the pangs that made thee see
This was no world of rest for thee!"
Thy body here is laid to rest,
Its earthly toils are past,
And to its home among the blest
Thy soul is gone at last;
Wash'd in the fountain of His grace,
It joins the heav'nly throng,
Where in the light of Jesu's face
The angels join in song.
Softly rest, my sleeping sister,
Though thy dust now decks the grave,—
Softly rest, we meet where yonder
Spirits blest enjoyment have.
