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Tristitiae O well for him who lives at ease With garnered1 gold in wide domain2， Nor heeds3 the splashing of the rain， The crashing down of forest trees. O well for him who ne'er hath known The travail4 of the hungry years， A father grey with grief and tears， A mother weeping all alone. But well for him whose foot hath trod The weary road of toil5 and strife6， Yet from the sorrows of his life. Builds ladders to be nearer God.
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