SC HYMN. [36 From her lowbed of mortal dust Escap’d the prison of her clay, The new inhabitant of bliss To heav’n directs her wond’rous way. Ye fields, that witness’d once her tears, Ye winds, that wafted oft her sighs, Ye mountains, where she breath’d her prayers When sorrow’s shadows veil’d her eyes ; No more the weary pilgrim mourns, No more affliction wrings her heart; Th’ unfetter’d soul to God returns— For ever she and anguish part!— Receive, 0 earth, her faded form; In thy cold bosom let it lie; Safe let it rest from every storn, Soon must it rise, no more to die!
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