ALONG sequestered paths her spirit trod,
And shunned the highway and the world's hot glare;
You knew her for a chosen child of God,
Who breathed His graces as her native air,
But ne'er forgot her Father's loving care.
Erect in soul before her fellow man,
Her high born dignity bent down to share
Each common woe that mars life's rounded plan.
The oil of gladness in her hand she bore
And poured it as a balm for every wound,
And lightened every fellow sufferer's lot;
So grateful eyes saw in her garb no spot,
But angel's vestments, and beheld her crowned--
But I--shall I see her loved face no more?