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Show THE NUPTIALS OF SORROW. I. From the dark of the desert of Saints, In the night of my loss, Came a soul-haunting echo of plaints And the shade of a Face on a Cross. Forth I went, as a little .one led by the hand, 'Mid the death-smelling sand. II. As one pales at the clanging of steel. And is sickened with dread At the blood dripping loud its appeal. My poor heart lieth still as the dead; And my soul is aswoon with a weak woman wo-man fear Of a scourge hissing near. HI. Hath He hidden there joy far above All this menace of pain, That He thus might entice to a love ; Unalloyed by the vision of gain? Hath He made Him an Altar tor wedding a bride Of the Cross where He died? J. O. AUSTIN. |