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Though to-day be full of sorrow,
There is comfort in the morrow,
Hope doth never quite deceive;
If the soul hath care upon her,
Hearts, whose every pulse is honour,
Gather solace whilst they grieve!
Sharper, nearer, darker, drearer,
Though our sorrows strike severer,
Still amidst the clouds of ill
He, who every comfort gave us,
In affliction yet can save us,
Aid us, guide us, cheer us, still.