Anson, Catherine

So pure, so perfect was this beauteous Child,/ In Manners gentle, in Affection mild,/ We cannot doubt, Her Happiness is fixed/ Midst blissful Joys, with Earthly cares unmix'd;/ Cut off so young, Her sins may God forgive,/ She's gone from Earth, we trust in Heaven to live;/ Parents rejoice,  and sisters be ye glad,/ Brothers in mourning be no longer sad;/  All, all combined, the best you could have done/ Would not have earn'd the Prize  Herself has won