On the Death of Mrs. Elizabeth Blackwell, March 27, 1772, Part 3

For converse form'd by art Divine,
For friendship delicate as pure.
Did she not all with ease resign,
To make another's bliss secure?
On him by heavenly grace bestow'd,
Her generous heart entire she gave;
And, charged with the behests of God,
She only lived his soul to save.

As born her earthly lord to please,
Studious of his content alone.
Dispersing virtuous happiness,
She made his every wish her own:
As in their heavenly Bridegi-oom's sight
The church their vows with rapture pay,
Her duty minister'd dehght,
Her joy and glory was to' obey.
God's image she in man revered,
And honour'd all the ransom'd race;
Thrice happy soul, who always fear'd,
Whose love did the whole world embrace!
So humble, affable, and meek,
Her gentle, inoffensive mind,
None ever heard that angel speak
A railing speech, or word unkind.
Upright she walk'd in open day.
Free as the light, on all she shone,
In sight of Him whose eyes survey
The secret wish to man unknown:
Whene'er her pleasing voice we heard,
We saw her thoughts spontaneous rise,
Whose heart in every word appear'd.
Whose generous soul abhorr'd disguise.
Even as life the heavenly flame
In all her words and actions burn'd,
While still, invariably the same,
Her sweetness all estates adorn'd:
Strangers with loving awe confess'd
The ministerial spirit below,
And every charm'd spectator bless'd,
And lived and died without a foe.