586. S. M. Wilson.
Death of a Young Girl.
1What though the stream be dead,
Its banks all still and dry!
It murmurs o'er a lovelier bed,
In air-groves of the sky.
2What though our bird of light
Lie mute with plumage dim;
In heaven I see her glancing bright,
I hear her angel hymn.
3True that our beauteous doe
Hath left her still retreat,
But purer now in heavenly snow,
She lies at Jesus' feet.
4O star! untimely set!
Why should we weep for thee!
Thy bright and dewy coronet
Is rising o'er the sea.