For beauty, and for youth, let others weep,
Laid by the shaft of Death in life's last sleep;
Though neither youth nor beauty slumber here,
Yet age and virtue claim a parting tear,—
The spot to consecrate where Wisdom lies,
Wit without malice, truth without disguise.
Here rests Religion, void of vain pretence,
Founded on reason, and matured by sense,
With every Christian attribute adorned,
By all who knew, and felt its influence, mourned.
Blessed be the heart that heaves the generous sigh,
Sacred the drop that springs from Sorrow's eye;
Yet Reason shall our selfish grief restrain,
And check the tear which flows, alas! in vain.
Far now removed from scenes of sighs and tears,
Thy holy spirit dwells in heavenly spheres,
Welcomed by Angels to their bright abode,
Pure as themselves, and reconciled to God.