Yet not one mis-spent hour could claim of thee
Its stern account, as o’er the bound’ry line,
Across the frontier, ’twixt life and death,
With fearless step thou sought’st the better land.
They call thee dead! Nay, surely ’tis not Death
To pass from one world to another realm?
’Tis but a pilgrimage, a heavenly tour
Throughout the vast creation of our God.
Nay, dead thou art not, for thy spirit lives,
And its pure influence will never die.