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C. M.


The Holy Child.

By cool Siloam’s shady rill

How sweet the lily grows!

How sweet the breath, beneath the hill,

Of Sharon’s dewy rose!

Lo, such the child whose early feet

The paths of peace have trod;

Whose secret heart, with influence sweet,

Is upward drawn to God!

O Thou who giv’st us life and breath,

We seek Thy grace alone,

In childhood, manhood, age, and death,

To keep us still Thine own!

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