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252
AN AFTER-THOUGHT.
I cannot call affliction sweet,
And yet 't was good to bear;
Affliction brought me to thy feet,
And I found comfort there.
And yet 't was good to bear;
Affliction brought me to thy feet,
And I found comfort there.
My weaned soul was all resign'd
To thy most gracious will;
Oh! had I kept that better mind,
Or been afflicted still!
To thy most gracious will;
Oh! had I kept that better mind,
Or been afflicted still!
Where are the vows which then I vow'd,
The joys which then I knew?
Those vanish'd like the morning cloud,
These like the early dew.
The joys which then I knew?
Those vanish'd like the morning cloud,
These like the early dew.
253
Lord, grant me grace for every day,
Whate'er my state may be;
Through life, in death, with truth to say,
“My God is all to me!”
Whate'er my state may be;
Through life, in death, with truth to say,
“My God is all to me!”
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