Like a young spirit fresh from heaven,
She bow’d her slight and graceful form,
And humbly pray’d to be forgiven.
Oh, God! if souls unsoiled as these
Need daily mercy from Thy throne,
If she, upon her bended knees,
Our loveliest and purest one—
She, with a face so clear and bright,
We deem her some stray child of light;
If she, with those soft eyes in tears,