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But not forever — in the silent tomb,
Where thou art laid, thy kindred shall find room;
A little while — a few short years of pain,
And, one by one, we'll come to thee again.
The kind old Father shall seek out the place,
And rest with thee, the youngest of his race;
The dear, dear Mother-bent with age and grief-
Shall lay her head by thine, in sweet relief;
Sister and Brother, and that faithful Friend,
True from the first, and tender to the end,
All, all, in His good time, who placed us here,
To live, to love, to die and disappear,
Shall come and make their quiet bed with thee,
Beneath the shadow of that spreading tree;
With thee to sleep through death's long dreamless night,
With thee rise up and bless the morning light.
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