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Moses: A Story of the Nile



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With gentle hands they bore him That bright and shining train, From Nebo's lonely mountain To sleep in Moab's vale. But they sung no mornful dirges, No solemn requiems said, And the soft wave of their pinions Made music as they trod. But no one heard them passing, None saw their chosen grave ; It was the angels secret Where Moses should be laid. And when the grave was finished, They trod with golden sandals Above the sacred spot, And the brightest, fairest flowers Sprang up beneath their tread. Nor broken turf, nor hillock Did e'er reveal that grave, And truthful lips have never said We know where he is laid.



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