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 “O kin of blood! Thy life of use
And patient trust is more than mine;
And wiser than the gray recluse
This child of thine.
For, taught of him whom God hath sent,
That toil is praise, and love is prayer,
I come, life's cares and pains content
With thee to share. “
Even as his foot the threshold crossed,
The hermit's better life began;
Its holiest saint the Thebaid lost,
And found a man!
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