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Show I LLJ yby Wilbur d NEfBifl y7 Son, let thy soul grow fine. For It alone is thine. Thou shalt have peace and strife, Thou shalt know joy and grief Ere thou hast had thy life But thy soul Is the chief Of all that thou shalt know; All else is poor and low. Son, let thy soul grow straight, Unwarped of pride or hate; Aye, let it grow serene, Not gnarled by lies and sneers And actions dark and mean, For God's eternal years Reach not along the ways Of these our earthly days. Son, let thy soul grow strong, Unmoved by hidden wrong, So that it may not heed The evil done to thee; But may observe the need Of the weak folk that be. That it may lend its strength To broken souls at length. Son, what are hands and heart? Are they of thee a part? 'Tis what in life we give, Not what we get, that blends Into what time we live And life that never ends Is for the souls that be Of blessed memory. Son, let thy soul grow fine, And straight, and strong divine. The rarest souls above Are those that have grown thus. Rich as the brother love That makes one folk of us. Fret not of Fortune's dole-God dole-God knows thee by thy soul. |