759. L. M. S. S. Choir. Death of a Scholar. 1 We come our Sabbath hymn to raise, Our earnest, humble prayer to pour; One voice is hushed, its notes of praise Shall mingle here with ours no more. 2 The lips are still, the eye is dim, That brightly beamed with joy and love; The spirit, it hath gone to Him Who freely gave it from above. 3 We will not weep, for Jesus said, "Let little children to me come;" But pray that our young hearts be led To seek our everlasting home.
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