The Dying Christian

By Frances E. W. Harper

The silver cord was loosened,
We knew that she must die;
We read the mournful token
In the dimness of her eye.

Like a child oppressed with slumber,
She calmly sank to rest,
With her trust in her Redeemer,
And her head upon his breast.

She faded from our vision,
Like a thing of love and light;
But we feel she lives forever,
A spirit pure and bright.