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Freedom (Poem)

When wilt thou be,
O Soul of mine, from all thy fetters free?
When shall thy light
Burst like the sunrise through the shrouding night,
And with the vision of a purer day,
Reveal the holy way?

When shall thy voice,
Ringing through all my nature, cry "Rejoice, I am thy King!
A King whose reign shall rest and freedom bring;
For I will gather up thy broken past,
And make it pure at last."

Yet not alone,
O Soul, thou shalt be on thy lofty throne;
For by thy side
Immortal love for ever shall abide,
Who, leading on through toil to perfect rest,
Shall prove His rule the best.

Would'st thou bring the world unto God?
Then live near to Him thyself. If Divine Life pervade thine own soul, everything that touches thee will receive the electric spark, though thou may'st be unconscious of being charged therewith.
—L. M. Child

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A. B. C.

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