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Our widowed Queen.

The Husband of the widow care for her,
The Father of the fatherless:
The faithful Friend, the abiding Comforter,
Watch over her to bless.
Full twenty years of blameless married faith,
Of love and honour questioned not,
Joys, griefs imparted: for the first time Death
Sunders the common lot.
Christ help the desolate Queen upon her throne,
Strengthen her hands, confirm her heart:
For she henceforth must bear a load alone
Borne until now in part.
Christ help the desolate Woman in her home,
Broken of heart, indeed bereft;
Shrinking from solitary days to come,
Beggared tho' much is left.
Rise up, O Sons and Daughters of the Dead,
Weep with your Mother where she weeps;
Yet not as sorrowing without hope be shed
Your tears: he only sleeps.
Rise up, O Sons and Daughters of the realm,
In pale reflected sorrow move;
Revere the widowed hand that holds the helm,
Love her with double love.

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In royal patience of her soul possess'd
May she fulfill her length of days:
Then may her children rise and call her bless'd,
Then may her husband praise.