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For Your Sweet Sake

DEFEATED.

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Vain and defeated each effort of life, Feeble and hoary, sick of the strife, But yet in my bosom a spirit says, “rise,” A voice calling onward out of the skies. Though wounded in battle, bleeding I lay, I hear the voice calling, and strive to obey. And make my last effort the battle to gain; Ah! death is upon me, I struggle in vain.

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