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LAST WORDS OF THKRON. 251
And if it ever blossom, Mary,
I'll trace thine emblem fair, In the bright bud, unfolding soft.
Its petals to the air: Oft it shall bid me think of thee,
And pray that thou may'st cheer, With love's requital, day by day,
Fond hearts that love thee here.
Thou art thyself a germ, Mary, -
Which fond Affection rears, Joyful at each maturing charm,
That in the bud appears. Such care demands the choicest sweets
Of tender, filial love, Until, transplanted from the earth,
The flower shall bloom above. |
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LAST WORDS OF THERON.
"What is so cheering,—what can afford such consolation,—what can yield such pure enjoyment, as the religion of Jesus Christ?"
Thus lie wrote, and left unfinish'd—
Laid his pencil down to die ! Thus he wrote, and then a message
Call'd him homeward to the sky. |
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