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Poem April 16, 1927 Issue

[Written for the Sentinel]

"He is risen"

H. CLARA BUCK

Mourner, look! He standeth near thee—
Life itself can never die;
In that dark and gloomy cavern,
But his folded garments lie.

Morning light in full effulgence
Shines upon the way he trod;
Lift thine eyes from earth to heaven,
Seeing always only God.

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