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OLD FOLKS. Oh, don't be sorrowful, darling, Oh, don't be sorrowful, pray; Taking the year, together, my dear. There isn't more night than day. 'Tis rainy weather, my darling, Time's waves they have heavily run ; But taking the year together, my dear, There isn't more clouds than sun, We are old folks now, my darling, Our heads are growing grey ; And the time of year is coming, my dear, You will always find the May. We have had our May, my darling, And our roses long ago ; And the time of year is coming, my dear, For the silent night and snow. And God is God, my darling, Of night as well as day, And we. feel and knovv that we can go. Wheraver He leads the way. Aye, God of the night, my darling— •■ Of the night of death so grim ; The gate that leads out of life, good wife, Is the gate that leads to Him.
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/HBT18720217.2.6
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Hawke's Bay Times, Volume 19, Issue 1251, 17 February 1872, Page 2
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160Select Poetry. Hawke's Bay Times, Volume 19, Issue 1251, 17 February 1872, Page 2
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