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I see thee still.
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And yet again I meet thee, where thy feet
Entered with reverent step the house of God.
In thine accustomed seat I see the eye;
Bent down in silent prayer, or raised to catch
A blessing from His sacred oracles;
And still again at the baptismal font,
Where thou didst lead the treasures He had giv en
To dedicate them to His holy Son.
Once more, I meet thee at the hallowed feast,
The sweet memorial of his matchless love.
There didst thou love to come, nor was thy seat
E'er vacant at the consecrated board,
Till wan disease its finger laid on thee,
And as a holy messenger of love,
Led thee from earth's imperfect rite to turn,
And, at the marriage supper of the Lamb,
To sit thee down in joy.

          "I see thee still;"
But not where blooming only to decay
Comes the sweet breath of Spring's awakening flowers,
Within Mount Pleasant's prayer-blest solitudes:
Not there I see thee.

          But where flowers burst forth,
All radiant with the hues of living bloom,
Thyself a seraph form, with golden harp,
And spotless robe, and voice of melody,
I see thee standing mid a shining band.
Thine eye is turned to earth with tender beam
Of love ecstatic, and thy heaven-tuned lip
Calls us to join thee there.