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And long they knelt—those sisters fair— In the dim light, together there,
With meek eyes raised to Heaven, Till o'er their youthful foreheads shone A beam from the departing sun—
The crimson light of even.
A year pass'd by, and one was seen With a sad step, and solemn mien,
Upon that spot again: Where was the other, who had pray'd With her beneath this hallow'd shade-"—
That sweetest, lovely friend ?
Where was she ? Ah! her steps had trod, Ere then, the paradise of God;
And while her friend below, At the sweet, sacred hour of even, Was kneeling to implore from Heaven
Strength for her night of woe—
She sat in bliss, exalted high, Amid the angels of the sky,
Where trials are unknown; She struck a harp of living fire, Attuned for the celestial choir,
Before the eternal Throne!
Thus were they parted—they who pray'd Together in that sylvan shade,