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PARTING HYMN OF MISSIONARIES TO BURMAH.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

PARTING HYMN OF MISSIONARIES TO BURMAH.

Native land! in summer smiling,
Hill and valley, grove and stream,
Home! whose nameless charms beguiling
Peaceful lull'd our infant dream,
Haunts! through which our childhood hasted,
Where the earliest wild-flowers grew,
Church! were God's free grace we tasted
Gems of memory's wealth—adieu!

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Mother! who hast watched our pillow
In thy tender, sleepless love,
Lo, we dare the crested billow,
Mother! put thy trust above!
Father! from thy guidance turning
O'er the deep our way we take,
Keep the prayerful incense burning
On thine altar, for our sake.
Brothers! Sisters! more than ever
Seem our clinging heart-strings twin'd,
As that hallow'd bond we sever
Which the hand of Nature join'd.
But the cry of pagan anguish
Thro' our inmost hearts doth sound,
Countless souls in misery languish,
We would haste to heal their wound.
Burmah! we would soothe thy weeping,
Take us to thy sultry breast,
Where thy sainted dust is sleeping,
Let us share a kindred rest.
Friends! our span of life is fleeting,
Hark! the harps of angels swell,
Think of that eternal meeting,
Where no voice shall say farewell.