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O THOU in whom subsists my life, my all,

From whose bright source I came,

To Thy bright goal my wandering steps recall,

Guiding them free from blame.

Whether before Thy holy shrine I bow,

Or track elsewhere Thy fame,

Where’er Thy presence lightens here below

I go, crying Thy name.

Wandering forlorn my heart exhales its sighs

Upon hope’s clouded glass,

Till through a rain of tears Thy lightning flies,

Bidding me see and pass.