"The privilege and pleasure That we treasure beyond measure Is to run on little errands for the Ministers of State."

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What, my soul, was thy errand here? Was it mirth or ease, Or heaping up dust from year to year? "Nay, none of these!" Speak, soul, aright in His holy sight, Whose eye looks still And steadily on thee through the night; "To do His will!

— John Greenleaf Whittier