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Only a voice clear-toned with hope,
Only a hand with faith made strong
Can lift them from the slough of wrong
And set them on the upward slope—
These derelicts of life and love.


GREAT SOULS
GOD made the stars as by a formula,
  And each one settled in its place
  And shines in far-off realms of space,
Alike, yet different in glory—
Some pale, some dominate the dark
    With steadfastness.

God made us men and women in a mold,
  But gave us souls of varied aims.
  The smaller ones yield to convention's claims
And warp themselves to petty rules of life;
But, ah! the great souls know no herding hand
    Of mastery.

They cleave the mysteries of Right and Wrong
  And read the creeds of Love and Hate—
  A law unto themselves and fate,
Nor ever stoop to soil or sordidness.
They differ like the stars, yet each one bears
    The stamp of God.

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