A Brand

He wandered through the earth despised,

Condemned of men;

Hunted was he from every cave,

And sheltering den.

Upon his brow he wore a brand,

And on his back:

A thousand stripes for it he bore:

His skin was black.

One day he stood at Heaven's gate,

His toil was o'er:

He entered, stood before his God.

His soul was pure.

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