But one dead lamb is there！

    There is no fireside howsoe'er defended

    But has one vacant chair！

    The air is full of farewells to the dying

    And mournings for the dead；

    The heart of Rachel for her children crying

    Will not be comforted！

    Let us be patient！ These severe afflictions

    Not from the ground arise

    But oftentimes celestial benedictions

    Assume this dark disguise.

    We see but dimly through the mists and vapors；

    Amid these earthly damps

    What seem to us but sad funereal tapers

    May be heaven's distant lamps.

    There is no Death！ What seems so is transition；

    This life of mortal breath

    Is but a suburb of the life elysian

    Whose portal we call Death.

    She is not dead —the child of our affection —

    But gone unto that school

    Where she no longer needs our poor protection

    And Christ himself doth rule.