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Rh Fresh and rosy dawns the day; Watchman, to thy rest away; Faithful soul, awake and pray: Bim, bome, the Sanctus Bell.

Swinging from the Church-tower grey, Sadly tolls the Passing Bell: One more soul hath sped her way: Bim, bome, the Passing Bell. From this world's poor pageantry, Lord, thou call'st a soul to Thee; Grant her rest eternally: Bim, bome, the Passing Bell.

Stealing from the grey Church-tower, Sweetly chimes the Vesper Bell. Soft it tells the evening hour: Hark, hark! the Vesper Bell. From the spirit's silent wear, From the day's turmoil and care, Hark! it calls to song and prayer: Bim, bome, the Vesper Bell.

Rolling from the grey Church-tower. Hark, hark! the Curfew Bell. Sad it tells that day is o'er: Hark, hark! the Curfew Bell. Curfew Bell! I hear thee say, Thus I ring the knell of day, Mortal, here thou may'st not stay: Bim, bome, the Curfew Bell.

