Death was full urgent with thee, Sister dear, 
And startling in his speed;? 
Brief pain, then languor till thy end came near? 
Such was the path decreed, 
The hurried road 
To lead thy soul from earth to thine own God's
abode. 

Death wrought with thee, sweet maid, impatiently:? 
Yet merciful the haste 
That baffles sickness;?dearest, thou didst die, 
Thou wast not made to taste 
Death's bitterness, 
Decline's slow-wasting charm, or fever's fierce
distress. 

Death came unheralded:?but it was well; 
For so thy Saviour bore 
Kind witness, thou wast meet at once to dwell 
On His eternal shore; 
All warning spared, 
For none He gives where hearts are for prompt change
prepared. 

Death wrought in mystery; both complaint and cure 
To human skill unknown:? 
God put aside all means, to make us sure 
It was His deed alone; 
Lest we should lay 
Reproach on our poor selves, that thou wast caught
away. 

Death urged as scant of time:?lest, Sister dear, 
We many a lingering day 
Had sicken'd with alternate hope and fear, 
The ague of delay; 
Watching each spark 
Of promise quench'd in turn, till all our sky was
dark. 

Death came and went:?that so thy image might 
Our yearning hearts possess, 
Associate with all pleasant thoughts and bright, 
With youth and loveliness; 
Sorrow can claim, 
Mary, nor lot nor part in thy soft soothing name. 

Joy of sad hearts, and light of downcast eyes! 
Dearest thou art enshrined 
In all thy fragrance in our memories; 
For we must ever find 
Bare thought of thee 
Freshen this weary life, while weary life shall be.