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An end of evil
by Chauncey Townsend
(1800-1868)



 
 

Give evil but an end —and all is clear!
Make it eternal—all things are obscured!
And all that we have thought, felt, wept, endured,
Worthless. We feel that e'en if our own tear
Were wiped away forever, no true cheer
Could to our yearning bosoms be secured
While we believed that sorrow clung uncured
To any being we on earth held dear.
Oh, much doth life the sweet solution want
Of all made blest in far futurity!
Heaven needs it too. Our bosoms yearn and pant
Rather indeed our God to justify
Than our own selves. Oh, why then drop the key
That tunes discordant worlds to harmony!


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