I am a widow'd thing, now thou art gone! br Now thou art gone, my own familiar friend, br Companion, sister, help-mate, counsellor! br Alas! that honour'd mind, whose sweet reproof br And meekest wisdom in times past have smooth'd br The unfilial harshness of my foolish speech, br And made me loving to my parents old, br (Why is this so, ah God! why is this so?) br That honour'd mind become a fearful blank, br Her senses lock'd up, and herself kept out br From human sight or converse, while so many br Of the foolish sort are left to roam at large, br Doing all acts of folly, and sin, and shame? br Thy paths are mystery! br br br Yet I will not think, br Sweet friend, but we shall one day meet, and live br In quietness, and die so, fearing God. br Or if not, and these false suggestions be br A fit of the weak nature, loth to part br With what it lov'd so long, and held so dear; br If thou art to be taken, and I left br (More sinning, yet unpunish'd, save in thee), br It is the will of God, and we are clay br In the potter's hands; and, at the worst, are made br From absolute nothing, vessels of disgrace, br Till, his most righteous purpose wrought in us, br Our purified spirits find their perfect rest.