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When love beckons to you follow him,
Though
his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions
May
wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams
As the north wind
lays waste the garden.
For even as love crowns you
so shall he crucify you.
Even as he is for your growth
So
is he for your pruning.
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