MADAM OLIVIA PHELPS,

When the good mother dieth, and the home

So long made happy by her boundless love

Is desolate and empty, there are tears

Of filial anguish, not to be represt;

And when the many friends who at her side

Sought social sympathy and counsel sweet,

Or the sad poor, who, for their Saviour's sake,

Found bountiful relief, and kind regard,

Stand at that altered threshold, and perceive

Faces of strangers from her casement look,

There is a pang not to be told in words.

Yet, when the christian, having well discharged

A life-long duty, riseth where no sin

Or possibility of pain or death

May follow, should there not be praise to Him

Who gives such victory?

Thus it is even now —

Tears with the triumph-strain;

For we are made

Of flesh as well as spirit, and are taught

By Joy and Sorrow, walking side by side,

And with strong contrast deepening truths divine.

But unto thee, dear friend, whose breath was prayer,

And o'er whose mortal sickness hovering Faith

Shed heaven's content, there was no further need

Of tutelage like that by which we learn,

Too slow, perchance, with vacillating minds,

What the disciples of our Lord should be;

For when the subjugation to God's will

Is perfect, and affliction all disarmed,

Is not life's lesson done?