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7.

C. M.

Springfield Coll.

The Sabbath of the Soul.
30

O Father, though the anxious fear

May cloud to-morrow’s way,

No fear nor doubt shall enter here;

All shall be Thine to-day.

We will not bring divided hearts

To worship at Thy shrine;

But each unworthy thought departs,

And leaves this temple Thine.

Sleep, sleep to-day, tormenting cares,

Of earth and folly born;

Ye shall not dim the light that streams

From this celestial morn.

To-morrow will be time enough

To feel your harsh control;

Ye shall not violate this day,

The sabbath of the soul.

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