THY WILL BE DONE.
'Twas eveninir^«|wandeie(l sad 'Along tom£JPreain an old churchyard, Where many lay in last deep sleep In narrow lonely beds so hard. Here and there a stately pillar, Raised by Mends for memory's sake, Struck the eye and made we wonder Why for dead such pains they take. On I wandered, scarcely heeding The slowly sinking golden sun, Till suddenly on tombstone lowly I read the words, " Thy will be done." No gilded pomp nor graven cross Marked now this tiny grave, Yet still to read these simple words A pang of pity gave. No gaudy flowers adorned the spot — No wreath, of immortelle, But one sweet bunch of violets Lay witk'ring where it fell. No name was graven, and no date On that pure snow-white stone, But only this, one humble verse, I read, "Thy will be done." It told its tale, beneath the sod Some buried darling lay ; " Thy will be done " was caved in grief, When all words fled away. Home then I turned. A feeling sad About my heart will run, Whene'er I think of that small stone Inscribed "Thy will be done."
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Tuapeka Times, Volume III, Issue 167, 20 April 1871, Page 7
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190THY WILL BE DONE. Tuapeka Times, Volume III, Issue 167, 20 April 1871, Page 7
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