Thy Heart
Thy heart is like some icy lake,
On whose cold brink I stand;
Oh, buckle on my spirit's skate,
And lead, thou living saint, the way
To where the ice is thin—
That it may break beneath my feet
And let a lover in!
On whose cold brink I stand;
Oh, buckle on my spirit's skate,
And lead, thou living saint, the way
To where the ice is thin—
That it may break beneath my feet
And let a lover in!
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