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by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

   I value more than I despise
      My tendency to sin,
   Because it helps me sympathise
      With all my tempted kin.

   He who has nothing in his soul
      That links him to the sod,
   Knows not that joy of self-control
      Which lifts him up to God.

   And I am glad my heart can say,
      When others trip and fall
   (Although I safely passed that way),
      ‘I understand it all.’


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