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DEATH OF A SCHOLAR OR TEACHER.
Sister, thou wast mild and lovely,
Gentle as the summer breeze,
When it floats among the trees.
Peaceful in the grave so low:
Thou no more our songs shalt know. -
Here thy loss we deeply feel ;
He can all our sorrows heal.
When the day of life is fled ;
AT TIIE GRAVE OF A TEACHER OR SCHOLAR
In this sacred spot now lieth
Low the form of one we loved ;
Spirits are to heaven reinoved.
Round the shrine of mem'ries dear;
Let us feel thy presence here.
All alike are circled still ;
Bow submissive to thy will.
All our days be thine alone ;
Let it still eachi sigh and groan.
Hallowed thoughts and hopes divine ;
All to thy great love resign.
126 Why have we lips, if not to sing! L. M.
From the Sabbath School Lute-by permission.
prais - es of our Heavenly King? Why have we hearts, if
not to love Our Fa - ther and our Friend above?
Why were our curious bodies made,
THE HALLOWED PLACE.
THE PRIVILEGES OF YOUTH.