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Never shall you feel oppression,

Hear the voice of war again.
3 Ye, no more your suns descending,

Waning moons no more shall see ;
But, your griefs for ever ending,

Find eternal noon in me ;
God shall rise, and, shining o'er you,

Change to day the gloom of night;
He, the Lord, shall be your glory,

God your everlasting light. 907.

C. M.

S. F. SMITA.
The Departed.
1 WHEN spirits from their cumbering clay

Ascend to heaven's bright shore,
Our hoping hearts with triumph say,

“ Not lost, but gone before.”
2 Then calmly may our spirits bow

Beneath affliction's rod;
Who, who would murmur that his friend

Is safe in joy and God ? 908.

H. M.

ANONYMOUS.
Close of Service.
BY us the seed is sown,

Thy blessing, Lord, bestow;
The power is thine alone

To make it spring and grow :
Do thou the gracious harvest raise,
And thou alone shalt have the praise.

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