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- THE PLAYERS ASK FOR A BLESSING ON THE PSALTERIES AND ON THEMSELVES
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- i{Three Voices [together].} Hurry to bless the hands that play,
- The mouths that speak, the notes and strings,
- O masters of the glittering town!
- O! lay the shrilly trumpet down,
- Though drunken with the flags that sway
- Over the ramparts and the towers,
- And with the waving of your wings.
- i{First Voice.} Maybe they linger by the way.
- One gathers up his purple gown;
- One leans and mutters by the wall --
- He dreads the weight of mortal hours.
- i{Second Voice.} O no, O no! they hurry down
- Like plovers that have heard the call.
- i{Third Voice.} O kinsmen of the Three in One,
- O kinsmen, bless the hands that play.
- The notes they waken shall live on
- When all this heavy history's done;
- Our hands, our hands must ebb away.
- i{Three Voices [together].} The proud and careless notes live on,
- But bless our hands that ebb away.
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