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mine are higher, holier purposes; For I will cleave this darkling continent, As with a sword of intellectual light; Lead these lost children to a living Father, And tell them of a Brother who has died. Yea, if my nature's weakness have rebell'd Against what seems the world's indifference; Men treading their unarduous wonted round Of common care, oblivious of mine, Who battle alone, afar from all; who waste, Ignobly sinking here in sight of goal, For bitter need of help I hoped from men, At leisure in their calm abounding homes; Bales for exchange or tribute; healing herbs; Wherewith to calm this fire within my veins, And tame the ravening hungry heathendom—