“VERSES OF ANN MARIA ELWELL” Thou God of love thou ever blest Pity my suffering state When wilt thou set my soul at rest From lips that love— Not from the dust affliction grows Nor troubles rise by chance Yet we are bound to care and woes A sad inheritance Hard lot of mine my days are cast Amongst the sons of strife Whose never ceasing brawlings waste My golden hours of life. As sparks break out from burning coals And still are upward borne So grief is rooted in our souls And man grows up to mourn.