The wreathing buds of snowy rose
That o'er thy bosom lay,
Were symbols in their beauty pale,
Of thy young life so sweet and frail,
And all unstain'd as they.
Oh stricken hearts!—bear up,—bear on,—
Think of your Saviour's grace,
Think of the spirit-welcome given,
When at the pearly gate of Heaven,
Father and child embrace.