by Edwin Markham
There is a destiny that makes us brothers;
None goes his way alone:
All that we send into the lives of others
Comes back into our own.
I care not what his temples or his creeds,
One think holds firm and fast-
That unto his fateful heap of days and deeds
The soul of man is cast
There is a destiny that makes us brothers;
None goes his way alone:
All that we send into the lives of others
Comes back into our own.
I care not what his temples or his creeds,
One think holds firm and fast-
That unto his fateful heap of days and deeds
The soul of man is cast
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