Lynchburg Virginian

No grief dim thy spirit—no tear-drop thine eye:
That the pleasures of earth, with its gayest of flowers,
Be strew’d ’neath thy footsteps, to gladden life’s hours,
And thy days, without sorrow or trial, may seem
Like the cherish’d remembrance of some hallow’d dream:
It were vain—we may slumber in hope’s chain secure,
But her fabric is transient and may not endure.

The vicious most worshipped in morning’s pure ray—
We are destined to weep o’er in silence at night.
And yet when I bend to that being on high,
Who ruleth the waters—whose throne is the sky.
Thou still art remembered, my sister—and there
Thy name ever breathed forth in stillness and prayer—
That thy soul may be turned from the vain things of earth,
Thy young heart be changed by a holier birth;
That His spirit within its recesses may come,
And meet in thy spirit, a calm perfect home,
And when thy dark eye shall wax languid and dim,
May thy thoughts turn to Heaven—thy spirit to Him—
And when death’s bitter draught thou art destined to sip.
May His peace be around thee—His name on thy lip.