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Sorrow indulged must always make
The grace within us less; Man's sorrow at its best must be
A form of selfishness,—
The gracefulest of all self-loves,
But a self-worship still, A waste of heart whose deepest depths
It is Thy right to fill.
Faith does not know of empty hearts —-They should be full of Thee ;
And to be full of Thee alone Is their eternity.
All life is loss ; for it delays
The vision of Thy Face: Yet nothing, Lord ! is lost to him
Who hath not lost Thy grace.
THE SHADOW OF THE ROCK.
The Shadow of the Rock ! Stay, Pilgrim ! stay ! Night treads upon the heels of day; There is no other resting-place this way. The Rock is near, The well is clear, Rest in the Shadow of the Rock.