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If not to shame your doubt, and your despair, And your soul's torpor?—Yet, arise and arm! It may not be too late.

Why, what are we, To cope with hosts?—Thus faint, and worn, and few, O'ernumber'd and forsaken, is 't for us To stand against the mighty?

And for whom Hath He, who shakes the mighty with a breath From their high places, made the fearfulness, And ever-wakeful presence of his power, To the pale startled earth most manifest, But for the weak?—Was 't for the helm'd and crown'd That suns were stay'd at noonday?—Stormy seas As a rill parted?—Mail'd archangels sent To wither up the strength of kings with death? —I tell you, if these marvels have been done, 'Twas for the wearied and th' oppress'd of men, They needed such!—And generous faith hath power By her prevailing spirit, e'en yet to work Deliverances, whose tale shall live with those Of the great elder time!—Be of good heart!