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     And through the dreary realm of man's despair,
Star-crowned an angel walks, and lo! God's hope is there!

Is it a dream? Is heaven so high
     That pity cannot breathe its air?
Its happy eyes forever dry,
     Its holy lips without a prayer!
My God! my God! if thither led
     By Thy free grace unmerited,
No crown nor palm be mine, but let me keep
     A heart that still can feel, and eyes that still can weep.


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1868 AD (1)
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