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We each commend each to Omnipotent hands,
And calm on His promise repose ; And know that, though scattered o'er seas and
We are sure to reach home at the close.
Meanwhile, we kneel down at the same Throne
of Grace; We breathe up the same daily prayer ; We march the same road to the same happy place,
The same Spirit guiding us there.
those that have been ; And, reaching by these to what sense cannot see,
We lose the dark present between.
We strive to be all that the absent would love ;
To fee from what they would condemn; Intent, when we meet, upon earth or above,
To be found the more worthy of them.
With aims so exalted, and trust so secure,
All else is in lovely accord, All holy, all happy, all peaceful and pure.
O, who would not love in the Lord ?
She rests beneath her native earth,
feet trod the flowers that bloom
She rests beneath her native earth ;
Yet long her gentle ways shall dwell
SPARE MY FLOWER.
O SPARE my flower, my gentle flower,
The slender creature of a day !
And pass away.
Decayed, unnoticed, overthrown.
Too like thy own.
The breeze will roam this way to-morrow,
And sigh to find his playmate gone : The bee will come its sweets to borrow,
And meet with none.