IF all tlest-ed friends I know

        tred ileness,

        t still greler till its pulse was less

        For life ty,--I s be slow

        t my own    nakedly below

        t he should press

        Motive, dition, means, appliances,

        My false ideal joy and fickle woe,

        Out full to light and knowledge; I should fear

        Some plait bethe brows, sher chime

        In t your flood

        Of bitter s dash on me ! do ye hear

        I say wime

        ting face to face h GOD ?
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