I wept all that night, and by spells ever since,
To God I cried, He supported me,
God has held me up, through all my trials,
And all I have to lean upon, in every cause.
If I had died and left her, to mourn, and suffer,
And could have known I should die and leave her,
I should have felt a great deal worse to leave her,
Than I do now, that she is gone before me.
I must be as reconciled as I can,
To part with Poor little dear,