By Miss Eliza R. Snow

'Twas not to gain the world's regard,

That she the path of virtue trod;

She sought-she's won a high reward:-

She lov'd and worship'd Israel's God.

'Midst persecution, she has borne-

The keenest pang of deep distress;

But tho' of earthly comforts shorn,

Pursued the ways of happiness.

Screen'd from the world's unhallow'd gaze,

She nobly grac'd her humble lot;

She walk'd in wisdom's golden ways,

And twin'd the wreath of heav'nly thought.

Like a sweet rose that's wont to spread

Its fragrance thro' the darkest gloom;

Her christian life an infl'ence shed,

That does, and will, survive the tomb.

Not like a flowret [floret] in the shade,

That's doom'd to waste its beauties there;

Her's were the charms that will not fade,

Nor perish on terrestrial air.

And tho' she's gone, her virtues twine

A holy wreath above her urn-

A gentle halo, that will shine

Till mem'ry's lamp forgets to burn.

Died-In Quincy, May 5th 1841, Maria, consort of M. Evert, aged 31 years, 1 month, and 13 days.