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 From the pride of thy place: As the sign of a sire to a son be the light on my face of thy face.

Thou wast father of olden Times hailed and adored, And the sense of thy golden Great harp's monochord Was the joy in the soul of the singers that hailed thee for master and lord.

Fair father of all In thy ways that have trod, That have risen at thy call, That have thrilled at thy nod, Arise, shine, lighten upon me, O sun that we see to be God.