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The nations suffer death

The nations suffer death
From centre if they part
If they have centre strong,
Godhead it can impart,

Such
Faqr which has a plaint
Against the toils of life
Has beggar's wont and mode
And can't bear worldly strife.

A godly man even now,
By wondrous act can chancre
To tiny mustard seed,
A lofty mountain range.

In fight without your heat
No zeal or zest is found:
Where are you godly man,
Take part in combat's round

O Sun, arise from East
And sail upon my view
Give all the mountain range
A crimson tinge and hue.

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