7. Unshrinking where pestilence scatters his breath,
Like an angel she moves, ’mid the vapor of death;
Where rings the loud musket, and flashes the sword,
Unfearing she walks, for she follows the Lord.
How sweetly she bends over each plague-tainted face,
With looks that are lighted with holiest grace;
How kindly she dresses each suffering limb,
For she sees in the wounded the image of Him.
8. Behold her, ye worldly! behold her, ye vain!
Who shrink from the pathway of virtue and pain;