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 Because he puts the compromising chart 
Of hell before your eyes, you are afraid; 
Because he counts the price that you have paid 
For innocence, and counts it from the start, 
You loathe him.
But he sees the human heart Of God meanwhile, and in His hand was weighed Your squeamish and emasculate crusade Against the grim dominion of his art.
Never until we conquer the uncouth Connivings of our shamed indifference (We call it Christian faith) are we to scan The racked and shrieking hideousness of Truth To find, in hate’s polluted self-defence Throbbing, the pulse, the divine heart of man.

by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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