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Rh Her Soul, too heavenly for an house of clay,

Soon wore its earth-built Mansion to decay;

In the last struggles of departing breath,

She saw her Saviour gild the bed of Death,

Heard his mild accents, tun'd to peace and love,

Breathe a blest welcome, to the Realms above;

To those bright Regions, that celestial shore,

Where friends, long lost, shall meet, to part no more.

"Blest I come! my hopes have not been vain,"

Upon her lifeless cheek, extatic smiles remain.