Addresses at the Funeral of Grace R. Van Derlip, Wife of George M. Van Derlip, in the Baptist Church of the Epiphany, September 17th, 1885

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Strana 11 - Thou wilt not wake Till I thy fate shall overtake: Till age, or grief, or sickness must Marry my body to that dust It so much loves ; and fill the room My heart keeps empty in thy tomb.
Strana 18 - A little while," to keep the oil from failing, " A little while," faith's flickering lamp to trim ; And then, the Bridegroom's coming footsteps hailing, To haste to meet Him with the bridal hymn. And He, who is Himself the Gift and Giver, — The future glory and the present smile, With the bright promise of the glad " for ever," Will light the shadows of the "little while.
Strana 19 - Father ! replenish with Thy grace This longing heart of mine, Make it Thy quiet dwelling-place, Thy sacred inmost shrine ! Forgive that oft my spirit wears Her time and strength in trivial cares, Enfold her in Thy changeless peace, So she from all but Thee may cease...
Strana 18 - Oh ! for the peace which floweth as a river, Making life's desert places bloom and smile : Oh ! for the faith to grasp heaven's bright
Strana 18 - little while ! " " A little while " for patient vigil keeping, To face the stern, to wrestle with the strong ; " A little while," to sow the seed with weeping, Then bind the sheaves, and sing the harvest song.
Strana 3 - Her voice was ever soft, Gentle, and low, — an excellent thing in woman.
Strana 19 - ... round. Old voices murmur in my ear, New hopes start into life, And past and future gayly blend In one bewitching strife. My very flesh has restless fits ; My changeful limbs conspire With all these phantoms of the mind My inner self to tire. I cannot pray ; yet Lord ! thou know'st The pain it is to me To have my vainly-struggling thoughts Thus torn away from thee.
Strana 11 - To meet thee in that hollow vale. And think not much of my delay, I am already on the way, And follow thee with all the speed Desire can make, or sorrows breed. Each minute is a short degree, And every hour a step towards thee. At night when I betake to rest, Next morn I rise nearer my west Of life, almost by eight hours' sail, Than when sleep breathed his drowsy gale.
Strana 11 - But hark ! my pulse, like a soft drum, Beats my approach, tells thee I come ; And slow howe'er my marches be, I shall at last sit down by thee.
Strana 18 - O let me find thee there: Where'er I stay, stay thou with me, A presence everywhere. And if thou bringest peace, Or if thou bringest pain, But come thyself with all that comes, And all shall go for gain.

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