MRS. FREDERICK TYLER,

They multiply above, with whom we walk'd

In tender friendship, and whose steadfast step,

Onward and upward, was a guide to us

In duty's path.

They multiply above,

Making the mansions that our Lord prepared

And promised His redeemed, more beautiful

To us, the wayside pilgrims.

One, this day

Hath gone, whose memory like a loving smile

Lingereth behind her. She was skilled to charm

And make her pleasant home a cloudless scene

Of happiness to children and to guests;

But most to him whose heart for many years

Did safely trust in her, finding his cares

Divided and his pleasures purified.

A sweet-voiced kindness, prompting word and deed,

Dwelt ever with her; and, when hours of pain

Narrowed the scope of her activities,

Its radiance comforted the friends who came

To comfort her.

With soul serenely calm

She felt the cherished ties of earth recede

That long had bound her in such fond control,

And with a hymn upon her whitening lip,

A thrilling cadence tremulously sweet,

Into the valley of the shade of death

Entered unshrinkingly.

How blest to rise

With song of praise, unto that tuneful choir

Whose harps are ne'er unstrung, and have no tone

Of weary dissonance.

The rose of June

Was in its flushing, and a few brief moons

Had cast upon her lovely daughter's grave

Their hallowed lustre, when we laid so low

Her perishable part, seeming to hear

Their chant of welcome, unto whom the Sun

No more goes down, and partings are unknown.