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 We heard once more the sleigh-bells' sound;

And, following where the teamsters led,

The wise old Doctor went his round,

Just pausing at our door to say,

In the brief autocratic way

Of one who, prompt at Duty's call,

Was free to urge her claim on all,

That some poor neighbor sick abed

At night our mother's aid would need.

For, one in generous thought and deed,

What mattered in the sufferer's sight

The Quaker matron's inward light,

The Doctor's mail of Calvin's creed?

All hearts confess the saints elect

Who, twain in faith, in love agree,

And melt not in an acid sect

The Christian pearl of charity!