When the four quarters of the world shall rise,

Men, women, children, at the judgment-time,

Perchance this Memphian girl, dead ere her prime,

Shall drop her mask, and with dark new-born eyes

Salute our English Mary, loved and lost;

The Father knows her little scroll of prayer,

And life as pure as His Egyptian air;

For, though she knew not JESUS, nor the cost

At which He won the world, she learn'd to pray;

And though our own sweet babe on CHRIST's good name

Spent her last breath, premonish'd and advised

Of Him, and in His glorious Church baptized,

--She will not spurn this old-world child away,

Nor put her poor embalméd heart to shame.