A Prayer.

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Lord, as I journey down the way,
Grant me good work for every day,
And, till my labor here is past,
To work with Thee until the last!

Words are poor vehicles for the carrying of thought. The glance of only one bright eye can tell a sweeter story than was ever written out in all the books of men.


                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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