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Stanzas on the Death of A Friend |
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Thou art gone to the grave; but we will not deplore thee, Though sorrows and darkness encompass the tomb: |
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O Blest Were the Accents of Early Creation |
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O blest were the accents of early creation, When the Word of Jehovah came down from above: |
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The feeble pulse, the gasping breath, The clenched teeth, the glazed eye, |
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Room for the proud! Ye sons of clay, From far his sweepin pomp survey, |
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