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-4- stormy wind that blows, From every swelling tide of woes, There is a calm a sure retreat,- 'Tis found beneath the Mercy Seas." Here is one of my favorites; I wish it was so that I might sing it to- morrow in the appreciative ears of my boy. If he can bear it, give him my love, and read it to him:- My latest sun is sinking fast, My race is nearly run; My strongest trials now are past, Mytriumph is begun. O, come, angel band, come and around me stand, O bear me away on your snowy wings To my immortal home. I know I am nearing the holy ranks Of friends and kindred dear, For I brush the dews on Jordan's banks,- The crossing must be near. I've almost gained my heavenly home, My spirit loudly sings; Thy holy ones behold they come! I hear the noise of wings.