“Stranger! if e’er by chance or feeling led,
Upon this hallowed turf thy footsteps tread,
Turn from the contemplation of the sod,
And think on her whose spirit rests with God.
Lowly her lot on earth,—but He who bore
Tidings of grace and blessing to the poor,
Gave her His truth and faithfulness to prove,
The choicest treasures of His boundless love:
Faith, that dispelled
Affliction’s darkest gloom;
Hope that could cheer the passage to the tomb;
Peace, that not Hell’s dark legions could destroy;
And love, that filled the soul with heavenly joy.
Death of its sting disarmed, she knew no fear,
But tasted heaven e’en while she lingered here.
Oh, happy saint! may we like thee be blest;
In life be faithful, and in death find rest.”