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332 Of her hushed voice, who, morning, noon, and night, Bent o'er our infant forms with warm delight; Who smiled away our tears, and with the rays Of her affection, brightened our young days; Who watched and followed, with a ceaseless love, Our lives, till hers was perfected Above; Till she was summoned to a brighter Sphere, Where recollections wake no sigh nor tear, By Him, who wept—A Man of Sorrows here! Who was the Victim of the fiercest strife; But is the Resurrection and the Life!