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L. M.

Jane Roscoe.

The Bitter Cup.

Thy will be done! I will not fear

The fate provided by Thy love;

Though clouds and darkness shroud me here,

I know that all is bright above.

The stars of heaven are shining on,

Though these frail eyes are dimmed with tears;

And though the hopes of earth be gone,

Yet are not ours the immortal years?

Father! forgive the heart that clings,

Thus trembling, to the things of time;

And bid the soul, on angel wings,

Ascend into a purer clime.

There shall no doubts disturb its trust,

No sorrows dim celestial love;

But these afflictions of the dust,

Like shadows of the night, remove.

That glorious life will well repay

This life of toil and care and woe;

O Father! joyful on my way,

To drink Thy bitter cup, I go.

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