On the Death of a Female Scholar.
1 One sweet flower has drooped and faded,
One sweet infant's voice has fled,
One fair brow the grave has shaded,
One dear school-mate now is dead.
2 But we feel no thought of sadness,
For our friend is happy now;
She has knelt in soul-felt gladness,
Where the blessed angels bow.
3 She has gone to heaven before us,
But she turns and waves her hand,
Pointing to the glories o'er us,
In that happy spirit-land.
4 God, our Father, watch above us,
Keep us all from danger free;
Do thou guard, and guide, and love us,
Till like her we go to thee.