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ODES AND SONGS. |
79 |
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The di'monds bright ray seems for ever at play
On the full glancing cup—and the soul-breathing lay,
Shall be praise of pure water,bright sparkling with glee
The gift of our God—and the drink of the free.
Miss C. H. Waterman |
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6 SONG.
THE RESCUE.
Air.-—Oh sing ! sweet bird.
O
N temp'rance, on ! speed on, blest power; To thy mild rule no transient boon we owe : Speed, temp'rance, speed ; each passing hour Mourns some foul outrage of thy fiery foe.' On to the rescue ! To his victims prove Deliverance safe—if slow. Speed, temp'rance, speed ! O speed, speed, temperance
speed, O speed! Speed, temp'rance, speed, Speed, temp'rance, speed, Speed on, blest power !
Put strength into thy wings, and fly O'er earth ; and bid man know himself", and shun,
The ruling vice—so live, so die, As man should live and die. Thine object's won When man himself respects ; And thy reward, Good deeds that thou hast done. Speed, temp'rance, speed! O speed, speed, temperance
speed! O speed ! Speed, temp'rance, speed, Speed, temp'rance, speed, Oh ! speed, blest power ! |
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