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My Faith is larger than the Hills
So when the Hills decay
My Faith must take the Purple Wheel
To show the Sun the way

'Tis first He steps upon the Vane
And then upon the Hill
And then abroad the World He go
To do His Golden Will

And if His Yellow feet should miss
The Bird would not arise
The Flowers would slumber on their Stems
No Bells have Paradise

How dare I, therefore, stint a faith
On which so vast depends
Lest Firmament should fail for me
The Rivet in the Bands

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