Grave on her monumental pile;
She won from vice, by virtue's smile,
Her dazzling crown, her sceptered throne,
Affection's wreath, a happy home;
The right to worship deep and pure,
To bless the orphan, feed the poor;
Last at the cross to mourn her Lord,
First at the tomb to hear his word;
To fold an angel's wings below;
And hover o'er the couch of woe;
To nurse the Bethlehem babe so sweet,
The right to sit at Jesus’ feet;
To form the bud for bursting bloom,
The hoary head with joy to crown;
In short, the right to work and pray,
“To point to heaven and lead the way.”