On the Death of Her Little Daughter

BY MISS E. R. SNOW

Earthly happiness is fleeting- Let the heart oppress d [oppress'd] with sorrow-

Earthly prospects quickly fade- Let the bosom fill'd with grief-

Oft the heart with pleasure beating Let the wounded spirit borrow

Is to bitterness betray'd! From his promise, kind relief.

Ah! methinks I see you bending While affliction's surge comes o'er you

Like a willow o'er the urn; Look beyond the darkening wave!

But a heavenly voice descending See a brighter scene before you-

Sweetly whispers, "do not mourn." Hail the triumph o'er the grave.

Scenes of sorrow most distressing- Though your lovely child is taken

Scenes that fill the heart with pain From your bosom to the urn;

Often yield the choicest blessing- Soon the sleeping dust will waken

Present loss is future gain. And its spirit will return.

In the darkest dispensation Yes, again you will behold it

Oh remember, God is just: Fairer than the morning ray-

Tis the richest consolation In your arms you will enfold it

In his faithfulness to trust. Where all tears are wip'd away.

Morely Settlement, Feb. 1844.