A Reed by the River/Advent

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ADVENT
Be thou the field, O heart,
Whereon His star hath shone,
While they of humble part
Tended their flocks alone.

And thou the manger poor,
O mind, in waiting be!
And thou, O soul, the open door,
Lest He shall come to thee.

O heart and soul and mind,
Thy little all unfold,
That even in thee He find
Some mite of myrrh and gold.

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