LI.
"For we throw out acclamations of self-thanking, self admiring, With, at every mile run faster,--'O the wondrous wondrous age!' Little thinking if we work our SOULS as nobly as our iron, Or if angels will commend us at the goal of pilgrimage.
"For we throw out acclamations of self-thanking, self admiring, With, at every mile run faster,--'O the wondrous wondrous age!' Little thinking if we work our SOULS as nobly as our iron, Or if angels will commend us at the goal of pilgrimage.