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For the Journal.


From the August 1884 issue of The Christian Science Journal

When cares fall on me like a pall, And boding fears and sorrows, all Infold me in their gloomy arms, Or fill me with their dread alarms, 'Tis then like healing unction shed As soothing balm, about my head, Or calming oil on tossing waves, Or incense on foul, dismal graves, Or salt thrown on a raging fire, 'Tis then that you have power to save, And teach reflection to a knave. When spirits fail and hearts grow sick, And gloom is gnawing to the quick, No glimmering of hope appears, And no kind friend or beacon cheers The soul, just sinking 'neath its load, Lost and beweary, on the road.