E'er shall fall, or fiercely blow,
But mild zephyrs, waked on roses,
Round her softly come and go.
There she yet is pure and lovely
As she was with us below—
And our hearts should cease to mourn her,
When her God hath bade us know—
That, within that peaceful heaven,
She is happier than before,
And that we should strive to meet her,