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The Alchemist, v.1, issue 3, Summer 1940
Page 57
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----- THE ALCHEMIST ----- Page 57 KINGDOM When God has made a million perfect suns And set them spinning in profound array, And calculated where each orbit runs, He takes unmolded and unfinished clay And gives it to his dearest creatures, man, A special gift - a crude unfinished toy, Urging him fashion it as best he can That he too, might know mastery and joy. And so it does not matter very much, Though he be circumscribed with prison bars, Man molds his God-given gift - And at his touch, he too creats a heaven set with stars. --Bess Foster Smith
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----- THE ALCHEMIST ----- Page 57 KINGDOM When God has made a million perfect suns And set them spinning in profound array, And calculated where each orbit runs, He takes unmolded and unfinished clay And gives it to his dearest creatures, man, A special gift - a crude unfinished toy, Urging him fashion it as best he can That he too, might know mastery and joy. And so it does not matter very much, Though he be circumscribed with prison bars, Man molds his God-given gift - And at his touch, he too creats a heaven set with stars. --Bess Foster Smith
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