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The Christ I know no priesthood has,
No altar and no alms,
He has no hour for liturgies,
Or incense breathing psalms.
There are so many broken hearts,
So much despair and sin,
So many weary little ones
That He must gather in,
And dry their tears, and on his breast
Hush them at length to sleep.
The Christ I know a brother is
To those who work and weep.