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THE RIVER ECHO.
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Then returning with new vigor,
Like a courser o'er the plain,
To the place from which it started,
Back it boundeth once again.

Once I stood beside that river,
With thy name upon my lips,
Whose dear eyes in silent sorrow,
Closed so soon in death's eclipse;
Then from cave to cave it echoed,
With a sob, a sigh, a start,
Till, returning with a murmur,
Back it nestled in my heart.

And it rests there, silent, sacred
From the littleness of earth;
A dear memory ever treasured
For its nobleness and worth.
And with hopeful patience ever
I look upward by God's grace,
Till near the crystal river
I shall meet thee face to face.

Not as there within that cavern,
With its echoings profound,
Shall I hear thy name repeated
With a cold and mocking sound;