Front:
GATES OF THE WEST (No. 1).
She lingered where the sunset glow fell on her golden hair,
Lit up the gilded organ pipes, the carving quaint and rare;
But sad the strain the blind girl played, and full of longing sore,
While listening angels pitying heard upon the Heavenly shore.
Upward ascendeth through gates of the West,
Heavenward, the sighing of pilgrims distressed,
Upward, where angels ín wonderment fall
Round Him in whom is no darkness at all.
WORDS BY PERMISSION OF CHAPPELL & CO, LTD
HOTO ONLY COPYRIGNT 1909
BY BAMPORT# CO.
LONDON.
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