[From Mona's Isle, 1844]
BENEATH this green-clad hallowd sod
A temple~~ of the living God
Here moulders into dust,
Who died in certain hope to rise
To meet her Saviour in the skies,
A saint thro faith made just.
Ye guardian angels of the dead,
Protect my Mothers mortal bed,
And guard her sacred shrine,
Until the morning of that day
When Time his chariot wheels shall stay
At thedecree Divine.
. I Cor. iii. 16.