Forgetful of the praise of Him "who doeth all things well."
She was like the lovely Star, whose light around my pathway shone,
Amid this darksome vale of tears through which I journey on;
No radiance had obscured the light, which round His throne doth dwell,
And I wandered far away from Him, who "doeth all things well."
That star went down, in beauty, yet, it shineth, sweetly now,
In the bright and dazzling coronet that decks the Saviour's brow,
She bowed to that destroyer, whose shafts none may repel;
But we know, for God has told us, that "He doeth all things well."
I remember well, my sorrow, as I stood beside her bed,