Be it part of hill or plain,
Lying in the sun and rain,
Cherishes a royal rose
Or a wondrous fruitage shows,
Blending by its alchemy
Elements of mystery,
Knowing nothing but to yield
To the purpose half revealed,
And to use its mystic power
Higher functions to endower__
So the soul of man should be,
Accepting thus his destiny.
As the marvel of the light
Shining from the Infinite,
Be it sun or be it star,
Held within its golden bar,
Fills its own allotted space
With a miracle of grace,
Giving inspiration breath
Through the silences of death,
Guiding in each measured course
Currents of creative force,
Knowing but divinity
In its work of ministry__
So the soul of man should be,
Accepting thus his destiny.
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