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In Memoriam A.H.H.

         
            XXXII.
       
      Her eyes are homes of silent prayer,
          Nor other thought her mind admits
          But, he was dead, and there he sits,
      And he that brought him back is there.

      Then one deep love doth supersede
          All other, when her ardent gaze
          Roves from the living brotherís face,
      And rests upon the Life indeed.

      All subtle thought, all curious fears,
          Borne down by gladness so complete,
          She bows, she bathes the Saviourís feet
      With costly spikenard and with tears.

      Thrice blest whose lives are faithful prayers,
          Whose loves in higher love endure;
          What souls possess themselves so pure,
      Or is there blessedness like theirs?
       


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