Comfort
SPEAK
low
to
me,
my
Saviour,
low
and
sweet
From
out
the
hallelujahs,
sweet
and
low
Lest
I
should
fear
and
fall,
and
miss
Thee
so
Who
art
not
missed
by
any
that
entreat.
Speak
to
mo
as
to
Mary
at
thy
feet
!
And
if
no
precious
gums
my
hands
bestow,
Let
my
tears
drop
like
amber
while
I
go
In
reach
of
thy
divinest
voice
complete
In
humanest
affection
—
thus,
in
sooth,
To
lose
the
sense
of
losing.
As
a
child,
Whose
song-bird
seeks
the
wood
for
evermore
Is
sung
to
in
its
stead
by
mother's
mouth
Till,
sinking
on
her
breast,
love-reconciled,
He
sleeps
the
faster
that
he
wept
before.
