by Anne Bronte
mourn with thee, and yet rejoice
That thou shouldst sorrow so;
With angel choirs I join my voice
To bless the sinners woe.
Though friends and kindred turn away,
And laugh thy grief to scorn;
I hear the great Redeemer say,
Blessed are ye that mourn.
Hold on thy course, nor deem it strange
That earthly cords are riven:
Man may lament the wondrous change,
But there is joy in Heaven!
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