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SONGS FROM THE ST. LAWRENCE |
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Where earthly shades may never fling Their darkness round me while I sing.
Irksome, indeed, has been the chain That binds me to this world of pain ; That binds my pinion'd spirit here When it would seek a holier sphere— Would leave this dull, this earthly clod. And seek the temple of its God !
But God is here—then wherefore roam ? 'Tvras he who made this world my home; 'Twas he who cast my lot on earth; From him my soul derived its birth— O, then, let me submit, and know That he shall guide my steps below.
Be this my wish, be this my care, To fill my allotted station here With quiet and submissive heart; To meekly strive to act my part, And wait till Jesus bid me come,— Wait till my Father takes me home.
THERON.
The moon shines not so tranquil, The stars are not so bright,
The sky not half so radiant, Since Theron took his flight |
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