What is thy hope, as laboring day by day In office high or 'mid the loathsome mire, Or sunk in idleness: dost thou aspire To aims above this mortal world of clay? Knowest thou at length, awearied, thou shalt say: "I yearn, alas, for something nobler, higher, Yet know it not!" And wouldst thou then inquire For that strange something, aye, and seek the way? Above earth's falsities thy steps must go, Thine eyes on Truth be fixed to conquer fear; And Love' shall guide thee, for thy heart shall know His tender presence, comfort ever near, Till o'er the earth-hung mist the light doth show Mind's pure creation to thy vision clear.
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