And when she gently pass'd from earth
She left her dying love for you;

And bade you seek a Saviour's face,
And by His mercy be forgiven,
And by that new and living way,
Seek an inheritance in Heaven."

"Then she is dead," he mournful cried,
"'Tis better thus, for see the sun
With rosy light now streaks the east:
And ere it sets my race is run.

Firm would I stand upon the drop,
Meet firmly my approaching doom;
But death is not an endless sleep,
And justice lives beyond the tomb.

Yet this conviction comes too late;
My soul is lost,--I cannot pray;
Forget your son--forget my fate,
And walk in wisdom's pleasant way."

In agony the mother pressed
To her sad heart her guilty son;
But yet, like incense from that heart,
Sweetly arose, "thy will be done."

No hands were folded on his breast.
They laid him not within the tomb;