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Poem by John Henry Newman

A Voice from Afar

Weep not for me;
Be blithe as wont, nor tinge with gloom
The stream of love that circles home,
Light hearts and free!
Joy in the gifts Heavens bounty lends;
Nor miss my face, dear friends!

I still am near;
Watching the smiles I prized on earth,
Your converse mild, your blameless mirth;
Now too I hear
Of whisperd sounds the tale complete,
Low prayers, and musings sweet.

A sea before
The Throne is spread;its pure still glass
Pictures all earth-scenes as they pass.
We, on its shore,
Share, in the bosom of our rest,
God's knowledge, and are blest. 

John Henry Newman

John Henry Newman's other poems:
  1. Flowers without Fruit
  2. England
  3. Opusculum
  4. Solitude
  5. Behind the Veil

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