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No traveler e’er reached that blest abode who found not thorns and briers in his road.

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Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, But trust Him for His grace; Behind a frowning providence He hides a smiling face. His purposes will ripen fast, Unfolding every hour;
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No traveler e’er reached that blest abode who found not thorns and briers in his road.
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What is there in the vale of lifeHalf so delightful as a wife;When friendship, love and peace combineTo stamp the marriage-bond divine?
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