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England's Antiphon by George MacDonald
page 252 of 387 (65%)
My feeble flesh may not abide
That dreadful stound; _hour._
I cannot brook
Thy absence. My heart, with care and grief then gride,
Doth fail,
Doth quail;
My life steals from me at that hidden wound.

My fancy's then a burden to my mind;
Mine anxious thought
Betrays my reason, makes me blind;
Near dangers drad _dreaded._
Make me distraught;
Surprised with fear my senses all I find:
In hell
I dwell,
Oppressed with horror, pain, and sorrow sad.

My former resolutions all are fled--
Slipped over my tongue;
My faith, my hope, and joy are dead.
Assist my heart,
Rather than my song,
My God, my Saviour! When I'm ill-bested.
Stand by,
And I
Shall bear with courage undeservéd smart.


THE PHILOSOPHER'S DEVOTION.
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