ly spoke her name,
She would be sure to run to me quick,
Without wanting anything to eat.

She placed her whole affections on me;
When she was alive, and saw me to the east window,
She would put her head through the pickets,
And look at me, as long as she could see my face.

She had more wit than any hen I ever knew,
Poor, sweet little dear, down in her silent grave,
Turning to dust, O heart rending,
I never can see her again.

God is supporting me under my trouble,
He took away my dear friend,
He has done it for the best,
It is all right and just.

But O it was heart rending,
For that Poor little heart,
To undergo death,
And for me to part with her.

When overwhelmed with grief,
My heart within me dies,
Helpless, and far from all relief,
To heaven I lift my eyes.

This world a place of misery,
O Lord land me in heaven,
That Holy, happy place,
When I bid adieu to this vain world.

Blessed are they,
Which have feelings to melt,
For the poor harmless dumb creatures,
And for sick human too.

And for all the troubled,
In the wide world around,
Human and dumb creatures too,
Great sympathy and love, they will have from the Lord.

I must be as reconciled as I can,
To part with Poor little dear,
It is all for the best,
From the evil to come.

She was sick and died very sudden,
Only two hours and a quarter,
About fifteen minutes dying.
Bloody water pouring out her mouth,
And her breath agoing, Poor little heart.

O dreadful melancholy I do feel for my dear,
She laid eggs till three days before her death,
She laid the most eggs, this four years around,
Than any hen I have on earth.

Soon my turn will come, and I must follow on,
I hope to land on that blest shore,
Where no sickness, no trouble, no trials,
Distress me no more.

My heart is fix'd on Thee, my God,
I rest my hope on Thee alone,
Christ wept so much himself,
He counts, and treasures up my tears.

Prayer an answer will obtain,
Through the Lord a little delay;
None shall seek his name in vain,
None be empty sent away.

The Lord takes pleasure in the just,
Whom sinners treat with scorn,
The meek, that lie despised in dust,
Salvation shall adorn.

Blest are the meek who stand afar