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 Y love, oh ! my love, in the darkness, While I have the warmth and light ; Oh ! shine on him, stars out of heaven, And comfort him, Queen of Night. My love, whom they called unbeliever, Because he had doubted them ; My love, whom they called Pharisaic, Because he had dared condemn. My love, in the ranks of the martyrs, No palm in his weary hand ; So patiently walking in silence, For no one will understand.