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 I, too, at the gates of God each day Seek for an alms of strength and grace, Beggar am I that wait and pray To feast my soul on His beauteous Face.

THE PROMISED COUNTRY

Fair must that promised country be Whose streams rise from eternity And One doth lead upon that way Whose footfalls are the paths of day.

Nor lurking fear pursues them there, As forward in the morning air With Him the blessed ransomed go, Their garments washen white as snow.

Alas! my days are very dim That look up to the Seraphim. Ah, Lord, some dawning may I be One of that shining company!

HOLY COMMUNION

Disguised He stands without in the street; Far come is He on heavy feet. O heart of mine, open thy gate; For darkness falls, and it is late!