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S. M.


Why Art Thou Cast Down, My Soul?

We pray for truth and peace;

With weary hearts we ask

Some rest in which our souls may cease

From life’s perplexing task.

We weep—yet none is found;

We weep—yet hope grows faint;—

And deeper in its mournful sound

Goes up our wild complaint.

Only to living faith

The promises are shown;

And by the love that passes death

The rest is won alone.


Be ours the earnest heart,

Be ours the steady will,

To work in silent trust our part;

For God is working still.

Then newer lights shall rise

Above these clouds of sin,

And heaven’s unfolding mysteries

To glad our souls begin.

Our hearts from fear and wrong

Shall win their full release,

With God’s own might forever strong,

And calm with God’s own peace.

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