Look in, and see Christ's chosen saint In triumph wear his Christ-like chain; No fear lest he should swerve or faint; "His life is Christ, his death is gain.
Pride of the dewy morning, The swain's experienced eye From thee takes timely warning. Nor trusts the gorgeous sky.
The watchful mother tarries nigh Though sleep have closed her infant's eye, For should he wake, and find her gone.
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