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"Ah! God is good," you softly sighed and thought of your first born babe that died. "All have one Mary here on earth, and another Mary of heavenly birth with God above."

There happy were those golden days when baby, with her wisdom ways, filled all your hearts so full of love that earth seemed bright as heaven above with th' babe to love.

Not that you'd love your Mary less, did God cut short this happiness, but that you'd love your unclear more, He took her to the heavenly shore in arms of love.

There free from sorrow, sin, and pain, your Mary's join the gladsome strain of that celestial, blood-washed throng whose joy breaks forth in sweetest song of Jesus' love.

Then dry your tears, my Lizzie dear, your babes can know of quick nor fear. A little while and you shall too

unclear Savior's face with rapture view 

in heaven above.

There too your darlings you shall meet and with them bow at Jesus's feet, so unclear for aye the father, son, "And God the spirit- three in one," unclear sound of love.