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C. M.



Let me not wander comfortless,

My Father, far from Thee;

But still beneath Thy guardian wing

In holy quiet be.

The storms of grief, the tears of woe,

Soothed by Thy love, shall cease;

And all the trembling spirit breathe

A deep, unbroken peace.

The power of prayer shall o’er me shed

A deep, celestial calm;

More soft than evening’s twilight dews,

My soul shall feel its balm.

For there Thy still, small voice shall speak

Thy great, Thy boundless love;

And tears and smiles, and grief and joy,

Shall lift my soul above.

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