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232 It came not laden with dying groans
 * And homeless orphans' cries:

It blew from the mountains of the Lord
 * And the fields of Paradise.

This is the boast of the Empire Builder
 * Who built not of mouldering clay:

That the kingdom He built, not made by hands,
 * Shall never pass away!

The mind cannot measure its boundaries,
 * All Space is its outer gate:

It is broader than ever a man conceived
 * And more durable than Fate.

This is the Empire our brother built,
 * In His little hour of Earth,

Thro' the spirit's travail of righteous deeds
 * And the spirit's glad rebirth.

He had silenced the boast of the Empire Builder,
 * With his gold and wasted lands,

By his deathless kingdom of golden deeds
 * And of things not made by hands.

This is the kingdom our brother built:
 * It is good: it hath sufficed;—

For who can measure the glory he keeps
 * With our Elder Brother, Christ?