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There is a hope of joy to come for every grief we know,
And there is still a blissfulness by each unmeasured woe;
And when the heart would bend beneath its lonely weight of care,
There comes the whispered voice of love to hush its deep despair.

Oh! never let the sinking heart, by its own grief, forget
That life is worth the living for if one heart love thee yet:
The tear of gentle sympathy, or love's all-soothing tone,
Will temper o'er the wildest grief that time hath ever known.

Then let us wait with trustfulness on each untoward change
That years, and days, and hours may bring in earth's remotest range:
What though the storm of life may frown, and danger linger near?
The sun's bright ray will wile away each sad foreboding fear.

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