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HYMN OF THE PURITANS 87
There is prophetic power
In longing hearts of men,
Foretells our union’s hour
For great deeds once again.
Each festival so glorious
To solemn vows us draws:
Forever be victorious
Our blood’s, our race’s cause!
HYMN OF THE PURITANS
(FROM MARIA STUART)
Arm me, Lord, my strength redouble,
Heaven open, heed my trouble!
God, if my cause Thine shall be,
Grant a day of victory!
Fell all Thy foes now!
Fell all Thy foes now!
Roll forth Thy thunders, Thy lightning affright them,
Into the pit, the bottomless, smite them,
Their seed uproot,
Tread under foot!
Send then Thy snowy white dove peace-bringing,
Unto Thy faithful Thy token winging,
Olive-branch fair of Thy summer’s fruition
After the deluge of sin’s punition!
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