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Christian

I dreamed I stood upon a hill, and, lo!

The godly multitudes walked to and

Beneath, in Sabbath garments fitly clad,

With pious mien, appropriately sad,

While all the church bells made a solemn din --A fire-alarm to those who lived in sin.

Then saw I gazing thoughtfully below,

With tranquil face, upon that holy showA tall, spare figure in a robe of white,

Whose eyes diffused a melancholy light."God keep you, stranger," I exclaimed. "You

No doubt (your habit shows it) from afar;

And yet I entertain the hope that you,

Like these good people, are a Christian too."He raised his eyes and with a look so

It made me with a thousand blushes

Replied -- his manner with disdain was spiced:"What!

I a Christian?

No, indeed!

I'm Christ."

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Ambrose Bierce

Ambrose Gwinnett Bierce (June 24, 1842– circa 1914) was an American short story writer, journalist, poet, and Civil War veteran. His book The De…

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