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THE OLD LABORER. |
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What doth God get from him ?
His very mind is dim, Too weak to love, and too obtuse to fear.
Is there glory in his strife?
Is there meaning in his life ? Can God hold such a thing-like person dear? |
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Peace ! he is dying now ;
No light is on his brow; He makes no sign, but without sign departs.
The poor die often so, —
And yet they long to go, To take to God their over-weighted hearts.
Born only to endure,
The patient passive poor Seem useful chiefly by their multitude;
For they are men who keep
Their lives secret and deep; Alas ! the poor are seldom understood.
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