400. O Love divine, that stooped to share
L.M.
Abends:
Herbert S. Oakeley, 1874
Oliver Wendell Holmes, 1859
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O Love divine, that stooped to share
Our sharpest pang, our bitterest tear!
On thee we cast each earth-born care;
We smile at pain while thou art near.
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Though long the weary way we tread,
And sorrow crown each lingering year,
No path we shun, no darkness dread,
Our hearts still whispering, thou art near.
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When drooping pleasure turns to grief,
And trembling faith is changed to fear,
The murmuring wind, the quivering leaf,
Shall softly tell us, thou art near.
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On thee we rest our burdening woe,
O Love divine, for ever dear!
Content to suffer while we know,
Living and dying, thou art near.
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