Hope dead lives nevermore, No, not in heaven.
O passing angel, speed me with a song, a melody of heaven to reach my heart and rouse me to the race and make me strong.
Why does the sea moan evermore? Shut out from heaven it makes its moan, It frets against the boundary shore; All earth's full rivers cannot fill The sea, that drinking thirsteth still.
Heaven is the presence of God.
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