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1852–1933

II

Henry Van Dyke

Thou art the Angel of the pool that sleeps, While peace and joy lie hidden in its deeps, Waiting thy touch to make the waters roll In healing murmurs round the weary soul.

Ah, when wilt thou draw near, Thou messenger of mercy robed in song? My lonely heart has listened for thee long; And now I seem to hear

Across the crowded market-place of life, Thy measured foot-fall, ringing light and clear Above the unmeaning noises and the unruly strife; In quiet cadence, sweet and slow,

Serenely pacing to and fro, Thy far-off steps are magical and dear. Ah, turn this way, come close and speak to me! From this dull bed of languor set my spirit free,

And bid me rise, and let me walk awhile with thee

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