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It matters not what be thy lot,
So Love doth guide;
For storm or shine, pure peace is thine,
What e'er be tide.
And of these stones, or tyrants' thrones
God able is
To raise up seed- in thought and deed
To faithful His.
Aye, darkling sense, arise, go hence!
Our God is good.
False fears are foes- truth tatters those
Love looseth thee and lifteth me
Ayont hate's thrall:
There Life is light, and wisdom might
And God is All.
The centuries break, the earthbound wake
Who doth His will- His likeness still
Mary Baker Eddy