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Rh To plant the Tree of Life 'mid arctic frosts, That the poor Greenlander 12 might taste its fruits, And 'mid his rayless night, devoutly bless The Sun of Righteousness. Ye did not shun The savage in his ignorance, or loathe To share his hut. The passport to your care Hath been the sign of deepest wretchedness, The Ethiop forehead, 13 and the name of slave. —Teach us your self-denial,—we who strive To pluck the mote out of our brother's creed, Till Charity's forgotten plant doth ask The water-drop, and die. With zeal we watch And weigh the doctrine, while the spirit 'scapes; And in the carving 14 of our cummin-seeds, Our metaphysical hair-splittings, fail To note the orbit of that star of love Which never sets. Yea, even the heathen tribes Who from our lips, amid their chaos dark, First heard the "fiat lux,"—and joyous came Like Lazarus from his tomb, do wilder'd ask What guide to follow; for they see the men They took for angels, warring in their paths For Paul, and for Apollos, till they lose The certainty that they are one in Christ,— That simple clue, which thro' life's labyrinth Leads to heaven's gate. Each differing sect, whose base Is on the same Pure Word, doth strictly scan Its neighbor's superstructure,—point and arch,— Buttress and turret,—till the hymn of praise,