Page:Scenes and Hymns of Life.pdf/200

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They spoke of one whose life had been As a hidden streamlet's course, Bearing on health and joy unseen, From its clear mountain source:

Whose young pure memory, lying deep Midst rock, and wood, and hill, Dwelt in the homes where poor men sleep, A soft light meek and still:

Whose gentle voice, too early call'd   Unto Music's land away, Had won for God the earth's enthrall'd,   By words of silvery sway.

These were his victories—yet enroll'd   In no high song of fame, The pastor of the mountain-fold Left but to Heaven his name.