When in the presence of the thing they fear,
Both flesh and spirit fail when hope is gone,
And what we dread the most is drawing near;
I said, "an end comes to the darkest day,
And the bright, sunshine follows after rain,
This fearful pestilence will pass away,
And I can comfort those she holds in pain;
I'll take them to my heart, nor will I care,
That her touch marred the faces I thought fair"

I clung to hope I would not let it go--
And praying thoughts went up with every breath,
For when the sickness came I did not know
That with her came the angel they call Death.
My child will be restored to me I said,
Death took her hand-and almost unawares,
She slipped away from me and joined the dead
Back on my heart fell my unanswered prayers,
Stunned I took up my child that was so sweet
And wrapped her poor form in the winding-sheet

All desolate I bore her to her bier
With unaccustomed hands I laid her down,
With grief too hard and deep to shed a tear
We stood beneath the heavens gathering frown,
And then the storm burst on us in its might,
The loosened winds rushed round to moan and rave,
'Twas fittest so--they bore her from my sight,
Through the wild ram and laid her in her grave,
Then conscious only of a dreadful loss,