Mrs. Louise B. Weston

My Mother! With the angels now,
  Life’s race completely run;
The Pilgrim’s cross is laid aside,
  The Christian’s crown is won.

Full two-score years has thy frail bark
  Relentlessly been driven,
Along the rugged shoals of time⁠—
  Now safely moored in heaven.

Some vision bright of Eden’s land⁠—
  Some glimpse from Nebo’s crest⁠—
So ravished thy enraptured soul,
  Then panting for its rest,

That when the City bathed in gold
  Full burst upon your sight,
You would not tarry with us more;
  Your spirit took its flight.

My Mother, when life’s sands run low,
  In love, in kindness come,
And take the spirit of thy child,
  And bid her “welcome home.”