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Ants | ||
| It's hard to find a single ant; They always have a friend. No matte how you rave or rant, They never seem to end. So when you think you've killed them all There's always just one more. And though they're gone from on the wall They roam upon the floor. The love and mercy of our God Are like the humble ant. They follow us where e'er we plod, Where other forces can't. | ||
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