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Of Him who gave it, pure as when it first
Was sent from its primeval heaven to fill
A tenement of clay, and do the will
Of the Most High.
      Her task was done, and she
Died peacefully, and full of hope, as those
Who die in Christ, to live with him again
Beyond the resurrection; and the hands
That ministered unto her dying wants,
Now bore her to her final resting place.

Moonlight lay on the forest like a shroud
Wrapping its huge limbs in a last embrace;
And the young stars looked softly on the flowers
Which their fond gaze returned, with earnest eyes,
Rich with deep language—and the sighing breeze,
Mourned brokenly, and at short intervals,
Among the lofty branches, as it, too,
Sang a last requiem o'er departed worth.

       Slowly they came!
Slowly and heavily, as those who bore
Their burden in deep sorrow! and they laid
Her, where the moonlight shed its brightest beams,
And where the stars might look upon her grave
Forever. And they raised their voices high,
And swelled a solemn chant of lowliest love
And meek submission and reliance strong,
Unto the pitying Chastener of their hearts,
Until the bosom of the forest thrilled
With the high anthem.