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the much remembered Day! Night from morning flies away, Life the chains of death hath burst: Gladness, welcome! grief, begone! Greater glory draweth on Than confusion at the first. Flies the shadowy from the true: Flies the ancient from the new: Comfort hath each tear dispersed.

Hail our Pascha, That wast dead! What preceded in the Head That each member hopes to gain; , our newer Pascha now, Late in death content to bow When the spotless was slain.