Through the Tunnel.
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Not so in that valley The Psalmist passed through,"With the rod and the staff," Still his comfort anew;Not so when the heart Is hush'd under the sod,And calm the soul sleeps In the bosom of God.
But awake, we speed thro' This valley of death,The spirit still chained in Its prison of breath.How black is the darkness! How sullen the gloom!The train's solemn thunder, Through the tunnel's drear tomb.
