Catharine

So thou hast found thy rest—that still repose, 
     No earthly storm, nor grief, nor sin can mar— 
Escaped from toils, and sicknesses, and woes,
     Thy freed soul dwelleth where the ransomed are,
Chanting the " song of Moses and the Lamb," 
In the dread presence of the great " I AM!"

Called in thy youth from labor to reward, 
     Sister! for thee how impious were our tears !
Better than earth's best blessings, with the LORD 
     Whom thou didst love, to be through endless years!
Secure of heaven—from every bondage freed—
And crowned with endless joy, oh! thou art blest indeed!

Yet, for the brightness that hath left our home—
     For love whose earthly ministry is o'er—
For a kind voice that Death hath stricken dumb—
     For a soft eye that beams on us no more—
For a pure heart that ever overflowed 
With sweetest sympathies on all bestowed—

For these lost treasures weep we!-not that she 
     In the white raiment of the saints is clad, 
And through the fields elysian wanders free,
     By all the bright things 'round her rendered glad!
Tears—that our earth, since she hath gone, is dim;
Joy!—that in Heaven is heard another triumph-hymn.