If it be night, the moonlight will wander winsomely with us, _ If it be hour of dawn, all heaven will bloom, If it be sunset, it’s glow will enfold and pursue us. To the remotest valley of purple gloom. Lo! the pine wood is a temple where the days meet to

worship, Laying their cark and care for the nonce aside,

God, who made it, keeps it as a witness to Him for-

ever, Walking in it, as a garden, at eventide.

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