
avs 


tenn ir crateful hearte 
irom your grateiul nearts, 
ayer as scends to h ave 


whisper to my heart, 
And move me in your worshipping | 
To take an active part. | 
Sweet teachers! ’tis an hour for prayer, | 
When hush’d are sounds of mirth, | 
And slumber rests his balmy wing 
Upon see weary earth: 
| When all the ties that bind the soul | 
To oa iness, are riven— | 
| Then heart-felt prayers, like logs sen’ @ birds 
Will wing their way to heave 
ay VU 

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