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[318] Who counts his brother's welfare
     As sacred as his own,
And loves, forgives, and pities,
     He serveth me alone.

I note each gracious purpose,
     Each kindly word and deed;
Are ye not all my children?
     Shall not the Father heed?

No prayer for light and guidance
     Is lost upon mine ear:
The child's cry in the darkness
     Shall not the Father hear?

I loathe your wrangling councils,
     I tread upon your creeds;
Who made ye mine avengers,
     Or told ye of my needs;

I bless men and ye curse them,
     I love them and ye hate;
Ye bite and tear each other,
     I suffer long and wait.

Ye bow to ghastly symbols,
     To cross and scourge and thorn;
Ye seek his Syrian manger
     Who in the heart is born.

For the dead Christ, not the living,
     Ye watch His empty grave,
Whose life alone within you
     Has power to bless and save.

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