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Faith.
So clouds may gather o'er my tent, The sun be shrouded from my sight,The cold wind blow, the night-breeze sigh, And oft obscure my heavenly light, Tho' He is there.
The storm may darken o'er my tent, The rain may drench, the tempest beat,Still I remember that the clouds Are "dust" of my Redeemer's feet,— And He is there.
Jerusalem, 1859.
