  Grave on her monumental pile: She won from vice, by virtue's smile, [15] Her dazzling crown, her sceptred throne, Affection's wreath, a happy home; The right to worship deep and pure, To bless the orphan, feed the poor; Last at the cross to mourn her Lord, [20] First at the tomb to hear his word: To fold an angel's wings below; And hover o'er the couch of woe; To nurse the Bethlehem babe so sweet, The right to sit at Jesus' feet; [25] To form the bud for bursting bloom, [1] The hoary head with joy to crown; In short, the right to work and pray, “To point to heaven and lead the way.” |
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