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[225] Know well, my soul, God's hand controls
     Whate'er thou fearest;
Round Him in calmest music rolls
     Whate'er thou hearest.

What to thee is shadow, to Him is day,
     And the end He knoweth,
And not on a blind and aimless way
     The spirit goeth.

Man sees no future,—a phantom show
     Is alone before him;
Past Time is dead, and the grasses grow,
     And flowers bloom o'er him.

Nothing before, nothing behind;
     The steps of Faith
Fall on the seeming void, and find
     The rock beneath.

The Present, the Present is all thou hast
     For thy sure possessing;
Like the patriarch's angel hold it fast
     Till it gives its blessing.

Why fear the night? why shrink from Death,
     That phantom wan?
There is nothing in heaven or earth beneath
     Save God and man.

Peopling the shadows we turn from Him
     And from one another;
All is spectral and vague and dim
     Save God and our brother!

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