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The Loss the Cross the Pain the Tear

'Tis not in vain we suffer so;
Life's stream is purified;
The torrents smoothly glide below,
That loathe the mountain-side.
And strength is born 'mid throes of pain;
Eyes clearly see that weep;
The heart bowed down will rise again;
We sow before we reap.
So God's decrees, one endless round,
We'll find are wisest, best;
No stitches dropped, no threads unwound,
The woof withstands the test.