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    LINES On the death of an infant child

    Many a tear was shed, beholding
    Its young form in dreamless sleep;
    Brief the hours its charms unfolding,
    Ere it left them here to weep.
    Tender bud, so early blighted
    By Death’s rude, relentless hand,
    In a fairer clime, united,
    Soon thy beauties will expand.
    HHHH 78.2

    Though no more its smile is cheering
    In the home, without it drear,
    Nor its lisping tones endearing,
    Still delight the listening ear,
    Yet, to God the gift resigning,
    Parents, trust his promised grace;
    Through affliction, thee refining,
    Till his image he can trace.
    HHHH 78.3

    Weep not for the treasure longer,
    Taken from life’s care and woe,
    Ere its infant steps could wander,
    Or its heart could sorrow know.
    Sleep! Sweet babe, till Jesus calls thee
    From thy lowly resting-place!
    Kindred, then, where nought befalls thee,
    Clasp thee in their fond embrace!
    HHHH 79.1

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