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by Henry Van Dyke

With eager heart and will on fire,

I fought to win my great desire

“Peace shall be mine,” I said;

but life grew bitter in the weary strife.

My soul was tired,

and my pride was wounded deep:

to Heaven I cried,

“God grant me peace or I must die,”

The dumb stars glittered no reply.

Broken at last, I bowed my head,

Forgetting all myself, and said,

“Whatever comes, His will be done;”

And in that moment peace was won.

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