On the Death of Miss REBECCA MOULDER

'Tis done—and lov'd Rebecca yields her breath! But dies in peace to triumph over death: That choicest flower of heaven, immortal love, Just buds on earth, to bloom in worlds above. To hear when death triumphant shook his dart, The dreadful summons with a cheerful heart, Sure sweet reflection on a life well spent, Made the heart easy and the mind content; Sooth'd all her anguish, soften'd all her woe, And brav'd the horrors of the ghastly foe; Bade heav'nly prospects all around her rise, And pleasing objects bless her closing eyes. 'Tis next to love to share the tear of woe, No other balm relieves the mourner so. Her soul, uplifted on celestial wing, Hears Heaven's high vaults with hallelujahs ring. To worlds of blessedness she bends her flight, And treads th' immortal regions of delight: Thou early saint! thy God's peculiar care, Who gave thee wisdom, goodness, knowledge rare, Taught thee thro' life's perplexing scenes to shine, And prov'd by ev'ry mark a work divine. Not to herself, but to her Saviour flies, And in his boundless love exulting dies.