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I seem again to hear, and soft
On the worn sense they light.

Thy pitying tenderness relieves
My sorrowing heart e'en now,
When gentle sleep in anguish leaves
My thought-distended brow.

But ne'er can this tried soul reveal,
Till life's sad course be run,
The bitterness, the woes I feel:—
Yet all is known to One.

Yes, and in His appointed hour
He will each grief remove:
Oh may I trust His sovereign power,
And His sustaining love.

And may'st thou ever still be blest,—
And still those powers employ,
To give the wearied spirit rest,
And guide to future joy.

O may thy earthly course be peace,—
Life's purer joys be thine,
Till its last flickering pulse shall cease,
In ecstasy divine.

Then will thy ransomed spirit rise
To glorious realms above,
And gain its mansion in the skies,
Rapt in redeeming love.