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And they who make His temples clean
The best subserve His will.
The holiest task by Heaven decreed,
An errand all divine,
The burden of our common need
To render less is thine.
The paths of pain are thine. Go forth
With patience, trust, and hope;
The sufferings of a sin-sick earth
Shall give thee ample scope.
Beside the unveiled mysteries
Of life and death go stand,
With guarded lips and reverent eyes
And pure of heart and hand.
So shalt thou be with power endued
From Him who went about
The Syrian hillsides doing good,
And casting demons out.
That Good Physician liveth yet
Thy friend and guide to be;
The Healer by Gennesaret
Shall walk the rounds with thee.
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