Faithful and true in duty's sacred sphere,
How like the summer-lightning hath she fled!
One moment bending o'er the letter'd page,—
The next reposing with the silent dead.
No more by shaded lamp, or garden fair;—
Yet hath she left a living transcript here,
Yon helpless orphans will remember her,
And the young invalid she skilled to cheer;
And he who trusted in her from his birth,
As to a Mother's love,— and friends who saw
Her goodness seeking no applause from earth,
But ever steadfast to its heavenly law:
For she, like her of old, with listening ear
Sate at the Saviour's feet and won His plaudit dear.