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Is stirred with thankfulness and love to God: E'en as the vale reflects the sunshine bright With golden light—and as the lake gives back The bright blue sky unbroken by a cloud— As outward earth mirrors the outward heaven— So doth the soul return the spiritual light, Even from the shadow of the inward world. Many things trouble, many things destroy, The image God has stamped on every mind; Sorrows, and strife, and passions, o'er it pass, In feverish, yet dark obscurity. And then we struggle vainly, unless faith, With tears and prayers, creates a holy calm— And only in such mood may we hope peace. But, Bertha, see the light leaves of the lime Are trembling, heavy with the darkness flung By twilight; 'tis the hour my mother loves To pace the terrace; she will need the aid Of your young arm—I would not trust such charge To any but our Bertha!