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DEDICATION. ᎢCy J. C. DUTT, Esqr. O Friend 1 O Brother look, what lotus flowers And roses red and priceless jessamin, I, roving through the Eden True, within The Soul, on banks of babbling brooks, midst bowers Of Hymns, have culled ! The joy-lulled Hours Like bees full-drunk, without murm’rous din Did fly—and snow-white pure thoughts, next of kin Of Angles bright, poured joys in blissful showers. Be thou, O friend a partner of my joy, Oh take these flowers, all fresh and dipped in dew, These are meet off'rings for thee—Christian true ! For, thou art like a flower—all-fresh, without alloy On thy heart’s pan this incense let me pour— I bring it from Christ’s Feet—a spicy shore— I عامج لبيبسيج