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“ THOU SHALT STAND IN THY LOT AT THE END OF

THY DAYS.

Knell of departed years,

Thy voice is sweet to me:
It wakes no sad foreboding fears,
Calls forth no sympathetic tears,

Time's restless course to see ;

From hallowed ground

I hear the sound,
Diffusing through the air a holy calm around.

Thou art the voice of love ;

To chide each doubt away ;
And as thy murmur faintly dies,
Visions of past enjoyment rise
In long and bright array ;

I bail the sign

That love divine Will o'er my future path in cloudless mercy shine.

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Thou art the voice of hope ;

The music of the spheres,
A song of blessings yet to come,
A herald from my future home,
My soul delighted hears :

By sin deceived,

By nature grieved,
Still am I nearer rest than when I first believed.

Thou art the voice of life :

A sound which seems to say,
O prisoner in this gloomy vale,
Thy flesh shall faint, thy heart shall fail;
Yet fairer scenes thy spirit hail

That cannot pass away :

Here grief and pain

Thy steps detain, There, in the image of the Lord, shalt thou with Jesus

reign.

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1. SRELEY, THAMES DITTON.

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