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more life.
MORE LIFE.
  NOT weary of Thy world,
So beautiful, O Father, in Thy love,
Thy world, that, glory-lighted from above,
  Lies in thy hand impearled:

  Not asking rest from toil;—
Sweet toil, that draws us nearer to Thy side;
Ever to tend Thy planting satisfied,
  Though in ungenial soil:

  Nor to be freed from care,
That lifts us out of self's lone hollowness;
Since unto Thy dear feet we all may press,
  And leave our burdens there:

  But O for tireless strength!
A life untainted by the curse of sin,
That spreads no vile contagion from within;—
  Found without spot, at length!