TO OUR MARY.

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Sweet sister, thoughtful ever of our need,
Forgetting self, if only we be served,
How oft thy loving sympathy has nerved
Our fainting hearts to kinder, nobler deed,
Or brought to being thoughts that intercede
For others' progress. We, all undeserved,
Cannot forget that life to ends thus curved
Made time for us to plant our own pet seed.
The world owes much to many a sister dear,
Who, banishing with tears in midnight hour
A fond desire for larger, happier sphere,
Strives faithfully in lowly life to shower
Rich daily blessings. Such may know e'en here
A Christ-like joy unknown to worldly power.

Chelsea, Mass., 1887.


                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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