| 107. Consolation | 
            
              | {182} "It is I; be not afraid."
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              | WHEN I sink down in gloom or fear,
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              | Hope blighted or delay'd, | 
            
              | Thy whisper, Lord, my heart shall cheer, | 
            
              | "'Tis I; be not afraid!" | 
            
              | Or, startled at some sudden blow,
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              | If fretful thoughts I feel, | 
            
              | "Fear not, it is but I!" shall flow, | 
            
              | As balm my wound to heal. | 
            
              | Nor will I quit Thy way, though foes
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              | Some onward pass defend; | 
            
              | From each rough voice the watchword goes, | 
            
              | "Be not afraid! ... a friend!" {183} | 
            
              | And oh! when judgment's trumpet clear
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              | Awakes me from the grave, | 
            
              | Still in its echo may I hear, | 
            
              | "'Tis Christ; He comes to save." | 
            
              | At Sea.
 June  23, 1833.
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