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With Arms of Love
The mother eagle wrecks the nest
To make her fledglings fly,
But watches each, with wings outstretched,
And fierce maternal eye;
And swoops if any fail to soar,
And lands them on the crag once more.
So God at times breaks up our nest,
Lest, sunk in slothful ease,
Our souls’ wings moult and lose the zest
For battle with the breeze;
But ever waits, with arms of love,
To bear our souls all ills above.
by John Oxenham