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Sweet child. O must thou leave us And here no longer stay. Are heavenly portals opening To realms of endless day? Are notes of glory swelling so full and clear and loud That thou dost long to mingle In that bright angelic crowd? Methinks a holy radiance O'erspreads thy childlike brow. Is Jesus fondly beckoning, Art going to him now? Why chase those smiles of gladness Each look of harm or grief? Do glimpses of the the heavenly Bring sure and sweet relief?