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THE OLD FAMILY.
There was no child but owned their care, no aged soul and poor,
But blessed their shadow, as it fell within the humble door;
No bed of sickness, where their words of comfort did not wake;
May He who saw their love to us their bed in sickness make!

May He be with them in their ways, wherever they may go,
And give to them the Heritage the faithful only know;
And they have wealth, that will abide when earthly goods depart,
In the poor man's love, the poor man's prayer, and the blessing of his heart!

How sad it seemed to miss their words of greeting on our ways,
How heavily our work went on without their cheering praise;
We felt like those who lose on earth their refuge and their stay,
When They, the family we loved, went from us far away.

They left with us their treasure—yes, we hold what they held dear,
The father, our good father, laid for ever with us here;