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THE HEIR.
 
 
 
 
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392

THE HEIR.

An orphan, through the world
Unfriended did I roam,
I knew not that my Father lived,
Nor that I had a home.
No kindred might I claim,
No lover sought for me;
Mine was a solitary life,
Set in no family.
I yielded to despair,
I sorrowed night and morn—
I cried, “Ah! good it were for me,
If I had not been born!”
At midnight came a man—
He knocked upon my door;
He spake such tender words as man
Ne'er spake to me before.
I rose to let him in,
I shook with fear and dread;
A lamp was shining in his hand,
A brightness round his head.
“And who art thou,” I cried;
“I scarce for awe might speak;
And why for such a wretch as I
Dost thou at midnight seek?”
“Though thou hast strayed,” He said,
“From me thou couldst not flee;
I am thy Brother and thy Friend,
And thou shalt share with me!
“For me thou hast not sought,
I sought thee everywhere;
Thou hast a Father and a home,
With mansions grand and fair.
“To thine inheritance
I came thy soul to bring;
Thou art the royal heir of heaven—
The daughter of the King!”