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100
THE LAVER OR MOLTEN SEA.
A molten sea beneath the open sky,With fruit and lilies carved around its rim,
And filled with crystal water to the brim,
On twelve symbolic oxen is raised high—
Which face the four winds with prophetic eye.
Is it from sunset clouds that o'er it swim
The water blushes, or prefiguring Him
Who came to shed His precious blood and die.
Lord, I would bathe me in that crimson sea,
And leave it, like the lilies, white and fair,
To go about and bring forth fruit for Thee,
While the dear burden of Thy Name I bear;
With patient labour lifting to the light
The Grace which passes thought in breadth, depth, height.
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