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"TAKE CARE OF HIM."
Saints are thronging, loving, longing,
To their land
Of rest,
Palm in hand
And praise in mouth.


"TAKE CARE OF HIM."
"THOU whom I love, for whom I died,
Lovest thou Me, My bride?"—
Low on my knees I love Thee, Lord,
Believed in and adored.

"That I love thee the proof is plain:
How dost thou love again?"—
In prayer, in toil, in earthly loss,
In a long-carried cross.

"Yea, thou dost love: yet one adept
Brings more for Me to accept."—
I mould my will to match with Thine,
My wishes I resign.

"Thou givest much: then give the whole
For solace of My soul."—
More would I give, if I could get:
But, Lord, what lack I yet?

"In Me thou lovest Me: I call
Thee to love Me in all."—