And shall I fear
That there is anything that men hold dear
Thou would'st deprived me of,
And nothing give in place?
That is not so--
For I can see Thy face
And hear Thee now:
"My child, I died for Thee,
And if the gift of love and life
You took from me,
Shall I one precious thing withhold--
One beautiful and bright,
One pure and precious thing withhold?
My child, it cannot be."
By Betty Scott Stam
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