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' HE KNOWETH THE WAY THAT I TAKE. 93
My poor, distrustful heart grew calm,
And rested firm on Him, Who scatters many a holy charm,
Along my path once dim. Sweet odours, rich with sacred bliss,
Are borne on every breeze, While notes of thrilling happiness
Float thro' the shadowing trees. Blent with the tones of nature's harp,
Which in wild music wake, Is gushing from my bounding heart,
" He knoweth the way I take."
But higher yet shall be the song,
That gushes from my soul, As still I trace my way along,
Up to the shining goal; And purer yet shall be the glow
Of transport in my breast, As still I press thro' doubt and woe.
Towards my eternal rest. And when I reach the fearful track
Where Jordan's billows break, I'll send this shout of triumph back,
" He knoweth the way I take." |
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