Dear girl, thine eye is clear and bright,
Fill'd with a glad and joyous light;
And thy young brow is pure and fair,
As thou hadst never known a care.

Full oft, I gaze upon thy face,
Where dwells a sweet and quiet grace;
And wonder what thy fate may be,
Upon life's dark and dangerous sea.

Ah, many a rude, tempestous gale,
Perchance, may rend thy little sail,
Ere thou wilt reach that blissful shore,
Where loving friends have gone before.

Even now, sweet girl, young as thou art,
Sorrow hath touched thy loving heart,
And clouds have dimmed thy sky, so fair,
And left a shadow resting there.

Thou'st lost a mother, kind and dear,
No more her sweet voice greets thine ear--
In winning tones, that could impart
Gladness and joy to thy young heart.

No more her gentle hand is laid
In loving kindness on thy head;--
No more her soft eyes rest on thee,
Fill'd with a tender sympathy.

Oft will the world seem cold the while,
Without her sweet, approving smile;
Oft will thy heart be sad and weary,
With no fond mother's voice to cheer thee.

Thy loved and honored father, too,--
Thy faithful guardian, kind and true,
Whose stronger arm could shield thy form,
And guard it from the impending storm;--

Who loved to watch thine infant glee,
And shared thy childish sports with thee,--
He, too, from earthly scenes has fled,
And joined the numbers of the dead.

Brothers and sisters, a happy band,
Await thee in the spirit land;
Bright amaranthine crowns they wear;
They long to greet their Ella there.

Prepare thee for that better land,--
Prepare to stand at God's right hand;
Soon may the fatal summons come,
To call thy waiting spirit home.

Oh, then slight not the Saviour's call,--
Into the arms of Jesus fall;
Sweetly resign to him thy soul,
Yield all thy powers to his control.