"Weep not, dear mother, weep not, I am blest,
And must leave heaven did I return to thee;
For I am where the weary are at rest,
The wicked cease from troubling. Come to me."
"Sweet babe, from griefs and dangers,
Rest here, for ever free;
We leave thy dust with strangers,
But, O, we leave not thee.
"Thy mortal sweetness, smitten
To scourge our souls from sin,
Is on our memr'y written,
And treasur'd deep therein;
"While that which is immortal
Fond Hope doth still retain,
And saith, 'At heaven's bright portal
Ye all shall meet again.'"
"Here innocence and beauty lies, whose breath
Was snatch'd by early, not untimely, death;
Hence was she snatch'd, just as she did begin
Sorrow to know,—before she knew to sin.
Death, that can sin and sorrow thus prevent,
Is the next blessing to a life well spent."
