Page:Songs of exile (IA songsofexile00daviiala).pdf/92

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They cast thee out as one despised, and burn

The wealth of God Most High;

They whom from thine assembly thou wouldst spurn

From drawing nigh.

I cannot pass along the highway more,

Nor seek thy ways forlorn;

How do thy paths their loneliness deplore!

Lo! how they mourn!

The mingled cup shall taste as honey sweet

Where tears o'erbrim the wine;

Yea, and thy chains upon my shackled feet

Are joy divine.

Sweet would it be unto mine eyes alway

A rain of tears to pour,

To sob and drench thy sacred robes, till they

Could hold no more.