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S. M.



My soul, be on thy guard;

Ten thousand foes arise;

The hosts of sin are pressing hard

To draw thee from the skies.

O, watch, and strive, and pray;

The battle ne’er give o’er;

Renew it boldly every day,

And help divine implore.

Ne’er think the victory won,

Nor lay thine armor down:

Thy arduous work will not be done

Till thou obtain thy crown.

Fight on, my soul, till death

Shall bring thee to thy God;

He’ll take thee, at thy parting breath,

To His divine abode.

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