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Poetry: The Laborer

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Stand up-erect: Thou hast the form And lilienesB of thy God! who hath more? I A soul as dftuntless 'mid tho storm Of daily life, a heart as warm, And pure as breast e'ro wore, Whot thcn? - ThoH art as truo a man As moves tüe human masa along, As much a part of the great plan That creation's dawn began, As any of the throng.Who is thine enemy? - the high, In station or in wealth the chief? The great, whó coldly pass thee by, With. proud step and avertcd eye? Nay! nurss not such belief. K true unto Ihyself thou. wast, What were the proud one's scorn to thee? A feather which thou mightest cast Aside, as idly as the blast, The lightleaf from tho tree. lío:-- UHeurbed passions - !ow desires- Absence of noble self-respect-9 Death in the breast's consuminj fires To that high nature, which aspires, Forever, till thus checked.Thoae are thine enemies- thy worst; They chaia thee to thy lonely lol- Thy labor aad thy üfe accurst. Oh, stand eiecll and from theca burst! And Jonger euGer not! Thou art thyself thine enemy! Tha great!- whtrt better they than thoui As theirs, is not thy will as free? Has God with, equal favorathee Neglected to endow? True, wealth thou bast not; tisbut du&t!; Nor place uncertain as the windl But that thou hast, which, with. thy cruat And water may despise the luat,. Of both - a noble mind. With this, and passions under ban ; , True faith, and holy trust ia God, Tfaou art thy peer of any man. Jjpok up, then- that thy Httle span Of life may be well told!