Where lies the maid — the Mason's Daughter;
Where is her tomb?
Down by the softly flowing water —
There is her long, long home.
Sounds of the flowing water breathing
Peace o'er her bed;
Vines in a tender sorrow wreathing
Bowers for the early dead.

CHORUS .

Sister, oh, farewell forever!
None are left like thee;
Weep, Brothers! o'er the dark, dark river
Fades love and light far away!

Oft, when the mystic toils were ended,
True hearts among,
What joys the evening hours attended,
Blest with her matchless song!
Thence, when the midnight hour resounded,
Rapt with her lay,
Each from the circle that surrounded
Parted in gloom away!

When, through the haunts of sorrow straying
At duty's call,
We, every sign of grief obeying,
Bore friendly aid to all; —
How with us on the holy mission
Fervent was she!
How, like a bright and blissful vision,
'Twas her delight to be.

Death called the Mason's Daughter early, —
Far, far too soon;
Blight nipped the tender flower unfairly,
Faded her light at noon.
Doubtless in mercy it was given,
Mercy divine,
That in the love and light of Heaven
She might forever shine.

Sing, every little bird around her,
Sing o'er her tomb!
Forms from the better world have found her
Here, where we made her home.
Grief to this sacred scene forbidden,
Vanish atar!
Only a little time she's hidden,
Christ will the maid restore.