I know that I shall live, for He hath died.
Yes, my dear husband; though this wasted form
Must mingle with the dust and feed the worm,
Yet when a few short years at most are o’er,
Then shall we meet, I trust, to part no more.
Then moderate your grief; and though your tears
May fall, as memory calls to mind past years,
Yet ever in your breast this hope retain,
‘My transient loss is her eternal gain.’
That you have loved me with unfailing love,