THERE ‘s little joy in life for me,
     And little terror in the grave;
I ’ve lived the parting hour to see
     Of one I would have died to save.
 
Calmly to watch the failing breath,
     Wishing each sigh might be the last;
Longing to see the shade of death
     O’er those belovèd features cast.
 
The cloud, the stillness that must part
     The darling of my life from me;
And then to thank God from my heart,
     To thank Him well and fervently;
 
Although I knew that we had lost
     The hope and glory of our life;
And now, benighted, tempest—tossed,
     Must bear alone the weary strife.

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