587. 7s. M. Anonymous. Dirge for an Infant.
1 Lay her gently in the dust;
Grievous task, but oh! ye must!
Hear the sentence, |earth to earth,
Spirit to immortal birth;|
Youthful, gentle, undefiled,
Angels nurture now the child!
2 Upward soaring, like the dove,
Bearing with her chains of love;
Not to draw her spirit back,
But to smooth her upward track:
Her, the youngest of thy fold,
Angels watch with love untold!
3 With the Rock of Ages trust,
That which was enshrined in dust;
Robed in ever-spotless white,
In an atmosphere of light,
By the never-failing springs
Rests she now her weary wings.