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[21] Not a vain and cold ideal,
     Not a poet's dream alone,
But a presence warm and real,
     Seen and felt and known.

When the red right-hand of slaughter
     Moulders with the steel it swung,
When the name of seer and poet
     Dies on Memory's tongue,

All bright thoughts and pure shall gather
     Round that meek and suffering one,—
Glorious, like the seer-seen angel
     Standing in the sun!

Take the good man's book and ponder
     What its pages say to thee;
Blessed as the hand of healing
     May its lesson be.

If it only serves to strengthen
     Yearnings for a higher good,
For the fount of living waters
     And diviner food;

If the pride of human reason
     Feels its meek and still rebuke,
Quailing like the eye of Peter
     From the Just One's look!

If with readier ear thou heedest
     What the Inward Teacher saith,
Listening with a willing spirit
     And a childlike faith,—

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