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DEDICATED,

BY HER HUSBAND,

TO THEIR CHILDREN.

By John Hopper, H.D. F.R. J.
Professor in University College

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OH! when the form we lov'd our sight has fled,
The lips that once told music to our heart,
Are silent in the chambers of the dead,
The smile, the tone, the welcome-all depart;
Those eyes that beam'd upon us only love,
Shrine of the gentle soul, have ceased to glow;
And we, more desolate than the lonely dove,
Scarce know to realise our too real woe:
Ah!-then, how memory lingers o'er the past!
We hear that voice, we see that smile once more,
Paint fresh the scenes we knew- the first-the last;
Fond dream!-that adds to pangs we felt before.
But list!-a chaunt of heaven!-it seems to tell,
"Tis not for ever, that last long farewell,

We shall our lov'd one, lost one meet again;

The air wafts triumph-hark!—a choral strain!

'Midst all-I hear an earth-born seraph cry,

"THANKS BE TO GOD, THROUGH CHRIST, FOR VICTORY!"

LONDON:

JUDD & GLASS, GRAY'S INN ROAD.

1856.

210. C. 143.

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