Normale Version: THE GREAT AIM
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Earth beareth many pangs of guilt and wrong
Hunger, and chains, and nakedness, all cry
From out the ground to Him, whose searching eye
Sees blood like slinking serpents steal along

The dusty way, rank grass, and flowers among.
His the dread voice —" Where is thy brother?" Why
Sit we here weaving our common griefs to song,
While that eternal call, forth bids us fly

From self, and wake to human good? The near,
The humble, it may be, yet —God-appointed!
If greatly girded, cast aside thy fear

In solemn trust, thou mission’d and anointed!
Oh! glorious task! made free from petty strife,
Thy Truth becomes an Act, — thy Aspiration —Life.!