GHASS. 





But yield, deep rooted in the soil, 

 Meet pimruce to the labourer's toil, 

 Till, at earth's harvest, angel-reapers come 

 To bear us gently in their bosoms home. 



Meanwhile, amid the desert waste, 

 For lowly souls one spot is plac'd; 

 The lot is fair : and all around 

 Soft verdure springs from holy ground. 



Spreading for aching limbs its calm repose. 



And peace and joy such as the world ne'er knows. 

 Thus, Lord, within Thy Church to rest 

 Be it through life our portion blest, 

 "Where heavenly dew with kindly aid 

 Falls to refresh each tender blade i ; 



Then bursting through the tilth of time may we 



Blossom for ever in Eternity ! 



1 Deut. xxxii. 2. 



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