Never shall you feel oppression, 3 Ye, no more your suns descending, God shall rise, and, shining o'er you, 907. C. M. The Departed. S. F. SMITH. 1 WHEN spirits from their cumbering clay 2 Then calmly may our spirits bow Who, who would murmur that his friend 908. H. M. Close of Service. BY us the seed is sown, Thy blessing, Lord, bestow; To make it spring and grow: ANONYMOUS. Do thou the gracious harvest raise, 530 |