Mrs. Rebecca Weston
She is not dead, but sleepeth; —
Ere long will the morning break,
When those we love who sleep in Him,
Shall from the dust awake.
She is not dead, but sleepeth; —
Soon, soon will the ransomed sing
O! grave, where is thy victory?
O! death, where is thy sting?
Ere long will the morning break,
When those we love who sleep in Him,
Shall from the dust awake.
She is not dead, but sleepeth; —
Soon, soon will the ransomed sing
O! grave, where is thy victory?
O! death, where is thy sting?
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