How blest is our Sister bereft / Of all that could burden her mind. / How easy the soul that has left this wearisome body behind. Of evil incapable thou Whose relics with envy I see / No longer in misery now / No longer a sinner like me. / Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord / from henceforth, Yea saith the Spirit that / they may rest from their labors: and their / works do follow them.
Wife of Thomas Gill.