text:  But with no bigot scorn For faith sincere as thine Though less of form attend the prayer Or more of pomp the shrine; Remembering Him who spake The word that cannot lie "Where two or three in my name meet There in the midst am I!" I bar thee not from faults-- God wot it were in vain! Inalienable heritage Since that primeval slain! The wisest have been fools-- The surest stumbled sore: _Strive_ thou to stand--or fall'n arise I ask thee not for more! This do and thou shalt knit Closely my heart to thine; Next the dear love of God above Such Friend on earth be mine! O