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A pleasant home for each was found, But far apart they lay; And thus apart the sisters dwelt While long months rolled away. Poor little girls! 'twas very sad; They were too young to write; And no one guessed the quiet tears Poor Annie shed at night. Among our Sabbath-scholars soon I learned to watch her face; A quiet sadness on her brow I fancied I could trace.
When our maple pours its nectar, They shall share the luscious treat; Where the woodland strawb'ries cluster, Glad shall stray their little feet. When our Sabbath-scholars gather, They shall join the joyous throng; Sweet will sound their English voices, 'Mid the burst of children's song. Sisters, shall we share the blessing? Bring the lambs to Jesu's fold?
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