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314 FOREST MELODIES. |
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Not a shade of-darkness seems
Gath'ring o'er the grave before us;
For the star of Bethlehem beams, With a sacred radiance o'er us.
Jesus smiles, and o'er our way-Streams of sunbright glory play; And the fields of promise shine
Far beyond death's rolling flood, Where the soul its joy may find In the presence of its God.
O! there's nothing sweet as this,
Nothing yields such sacred bliss,
As the light of Jesus' smile,
In this world of care and gloom: Father, cheer thine erring child With its radiance to the tomb J
Oct. IMS.
THE DYING SAINT. Morning's rosy light is streaming
Round my restless pillow now, See the soft effulgence gleaming
Brightly o'er my pallid brow.
Odorous breezes, richly laden, " Whisper sweetly near my bed,
And all nature seems to gladden
'Neath the sweet Spring's music-tread. |
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