Days Of Beauty
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When days of Beauty deck the earth
Or stormy nights descend
How well my spirit knows the path
On which it ought to wend
It seeks the consecrated spot
Beloved in childhood's years
The space between is all forgot
Its sufferings and its tears
How well my spirit knows the path,
How well my spirit knows the path
On which it ought to wend
Consecrated spot,
Consecrated spot