By George Houghton

That alone is august which is gazed upon by the noble,
That alone is gladsome which eyes full of gladness discover;
Night-time is but a name for the darkness man nurtures within him,
Storm but a symbol of sin in a soul that is stained and unshriven.
Act but thine own true part, as He who created hath purposed,
Then are the waters thine, the winds all forces of nature;
Thine too the seasons, their fruits, which they redden but to surrender,
Thine too the years, and thine all time–everlasting and fearless!

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