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It is is biographical book. Astounded, to the guardian of my steps I turned me, like the chill, who always runs Thither for succour, where he trusteth most, And she was like the mother, who her son Beholding pale and breathless, with her voice Soothes him, and he is cheered; for thus she spake, Soothing me: 'Know not thou, thou art in heaven? And knowest not thou, whatever is in heaven, Is holy, and that nothing there is done. But is done zealously and well? Deem now, What change in thee the song, and what my smile had wrought, since thus the shout had power to move thee. In which could thou have understood their prayers, The vengeance were already known to thee, Which thou must witness ere thy mortal hour, The sword of heaven is not in haste to smite, Nor yet doth linger, save unto his seeming, Who in desire or fear doth look for it.