LINES

ON THE DEATH OF MISS ELEANORA HENDERSON.

She is not dead, but sleepeth.

--Luke 8:52.

She is not dead, she's sleeping
The dreamless sleep and drear;
Her friends are gathered weeping
Round her untimely bier.

She is not dead, her spirit,
Too pure to dwell with clay,
Has gone up to inherit
The realms of endless day.

She is not dead, she's singing
With angel bands on high;
On golden harp she's singing
God's praises in the sky.

She is not dead, O mother,
Your loss you will deplore;
Kind sisters and fond brother,
Your Nora is no more!

No more, as we have seen her,
The light and life of home,