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THE CHILD'S CALL
Afar, where heavenly waters flow
'Mid Paradisal calms,
All on a sward where lilies blow
The Shepherd counts his lambs.

Afar, beyond the wintry cold
Upon the heavenly hill,
A little lamb a few weeks old
Bleats for his mother still.

O mother's love and mother's joy!
But while I come in haste,
1 hear another lovely boy
Cry from the lonely past.

And while I kiss your curls aside
And hold you to my breast,
I kiss the little boy that died,
That will not let me rest.

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