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O Robert Lee! O Robert Lee! How shall thy servant speak of thee? Whom humbly, lowly, and afar, He followed in the track of War, Twas thine, almost, his soul to save, When sunk, well nigh, beneath the wave Of Doubt, that fierce his faith assailed. And other lights were hid, or failed. 'Twas thy grand life that told me then That God, indeed, doth dwell with men; 'Twas thine to show His truth and grace, In bright reflection, on thy face. How oft, amid War's fiercest storm, I've gazed upon thy noble form; And, marking how serene and high Thy mien, or how thy gentle sigh Was breathed o'er corpse of gallant brave, Who fell near thee, his land to save; How oft the thought that thou wast sign Of Might and Majesty Divine; And token, too, of that deep love That rules the .heart of God above ; So deep, so wide, embracing all, Yet caring for the sparrow's fall. Prayer now to Heaven is humbly breathed Sometime, somewhere, to see thee wreathed In crown of glory, fadeless, bright, Beyond the stars, in realms of Light.

Lynchburg, Va.