EPITAPH ON THE UNMATED.Nochosen spot of ground she called her own.In pilgrim guise o’er earth she wandered on;Yet always in her path some flowers were strown.No dear ones were her own peculiar care,So was her bounty free as heaven’s air;For every claim she had enough to spare.And, loving more her heart togivethan lend,Though oft deceived in many a trusted friend,She hoped, believed, and trusted to the end.She had her joys;—’twas joy to her to love,To labor in the world with God above,And tender hearts that ever near did move.She had her griefs;—but they left peace behind,And healing came on every stormy wind,And still with silver every cloud was lined.And every loss sublimed some low desire,And every sorrow taught her to aspire,Till waiting angels bade her “Go up higher.”E. S.
EPITAPH ON THE UNMATED.
Nochosen spot of ground she called her own.In pilgrim guise o’er earth she wandered on;Yet always in her path some flowers were strown.No dear ones were her own peculiar care,So was her bounty free as heaven’s air;For every claim she had enough to spare.And, loving more her heart togivethan lend,Though oft deceived in many a trusted friend,She hoped, believed, and trusted to the end.She had her joys;—’twas joy to her to love,To labor in the world with God above,And tender hearts that ever near did move.She had her griefs;—but they left peace behind,And healing came on every stormy wind,And still with silver every cloud was lined.And every loss sublimed some low desire,And every sorrow taught her to aspire,Till waiting angels bade her “Go up higher.”E. S.
Nochosen spot of ground she called her own.In pilgrim guise o’er earth she wandered on;Yet always in her path some flowers were strown.No dear ones were her own peculiar care,So was her bounty free as heaven’s air;For every claim she had enough to spare.And, loving more her heart togivethan lend,Though oft deceived in many a trusted friend,She hoped, believed, and trusted to the end.She had her joys;—’twas joy to her to love,To labor in the world with God above,And tender hearts that ever near did move.She had her griefs;—but they left peace behind,And healing came on every stormy wind,And still with silver every cloud was lined.And every loss sublimed some low desire,And every sorrow taught her to aspire,Till waiting angels bade her “Go up higher.”E. S.
Nochosen spot of ground she called her own.In pilgrim guise o’er earth she wandered on;Yet always in her path some flowers were strown.No dear ones were her own peculiar care,So was her bounty free as heaven’s air;For every claim she had enough to spare.And, loving more her heart togivethan lend,Though oft deceived in many a trusted friend,She hoped, believed, and trusted to the end.She had her joys;—’twas joy to her to love,To labor in the world with God above,And tender hearts that ever near did move.She had her griefs;—but they left peace behind,And healing came on every stormy wind,And still with silver every cloud was lined.And every loss sublimed some low desire,And every sorrow taught her to aspire,Till waiting angels bade her “Go up higher.”
Nochosen spot of ground she called her own.
In pilgrim guise o’er earth she wandered on;
Yet always in her path some flowers were strown.
No dear ones were her own peculiar care,
So was her bounty free as heaven’s air;
For every claim she had enough to spare.
And, loving more her heart togivethan lend,
Though oft deceived in many a trusted friend,
She hoped, believed, and trusted to the end.
She had her joys;—’twas joy to her to love,
To labor in the world with God above,
And tender hearts that ever near did move.
She had her griefs;—but they left peace behind,
And healing came on every stormy wind,
And still with silver every cloud was lined.
And every loss sublimed some low desire,
And every sorrow taught her to aspire,
Till waiting angels bade her “Go up higher.”
E. S.