So many gods, so many creeds, so many paths that wind and wind while just the art of being kind is all the sad world needs.
The world has a thousand creeds, and never a one have I; Nor church of my own, though a million spires are pointing the way on high. But I float on the bosom of faith, that bears me along like a river; And the lamp of my soul is alight with love, for life, and the world, and the Giver.
The art of being kind is all the world needs.
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