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Thy bosom is my resting-place, And yet I must depart. Earth on my soul is strong—too strong— Too precious is its chain, All woven of thy love, dear friend, Yet vain—though mighty—vain!

Thou see'st mine eye grow dim, beloved! Thou see'st my life-blood flow.— Bow to the chastener silently, And calmly let me go! A little while between our hearts The shadowy gulf must lie, Yet have we for their communing Still, still Eternity!

Alas! thy tears are on my cheek, My spirit they detain; I know that from thine agony Is wrung that burning rain.