Why must I take my flight without a tear
To dim the lustre of my heav'n-lift eye?
Why leave I sweetest joys without a sigh,
As though to my blest soul not rich and dear?
Is all my love to lov'd ones insincere,
That I am calm while other spirits cry?
Oh no! I love them; but love others more—
Our common Savior, victim on the tree—
Their Mother and their Sister gone before
To heav'n, there ready now to welcome me.