What are the last 17 lines of poem Bradstreet?

I have not one, but two to tend,

And he the foremost one;

My own, then too, His dear right hand,

And His Beloved Son.

My hopes and fears, my joys and cares

All hang on Him, who,

In nature as in heart, combines

Son, brother, husband too.

No other can such love possess

Or tender pity show,

As He who felt His Father's ire

And our frail nature, too.

How doth He look on children laid

Like jewels at His feet?

In them the Father well may trace

His glorious image sweet.

Oh, then, for all my little brood

I do beseech of Thee,

That Thou wouldst sanctify their souls

And to Thy heaven bring me.

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