And tears of sorrow can but fall
For her o'er whom we spread the pall;
But faith, sweet faith, is over all.

The house is dust, the voice is dumb,
But through undying years to come,
The spark that glowed within her soul
Shall light our footsteps to the goal.
She went her way; but oh, she trod
The path that led her straight to God.
Such lives as this put death to scorn;
They lose our day to find God's morn.

G'WAY an' quit dat noise, Miss Lucy—
⁠Put dat music book away;
What 's de use to keep on tryin'?
⁠Ef you practise twell you 're gray,