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273.

C. M.

Moore.

Faith.
223

The dove, let loose in Eastern skies,

Returning fondly home,

Ne’er stoops to earth her wing, nor flies

Where idle warblers roam;

But high she shoots through air and light,

Above all low delay,

Where nothing earthly bounds her flight,

Nor shadow dims her way.

So grant me, Lord, from every snare

And stain of passion free,

Aloft, through faith’s serener air,

To urge my course to Thee:

No sin to cloud, no lure to stay,

My soul, as home she springs;

Thy sunshine on her joyful way,

Thy freedom on her wings!

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