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C. M.

J. Richardson.

The Hymn of Summer.

How glad the tone when summer’s sun

Wreaths the gay world with flowers,

And trees bend down with golden fruit,

And birds are in their bowers!

The morn sends silent music down

Upon each earthly thing;

And always since creation’s dawn

The stars together sing.

Shall man remain in silence, then,

While all beneath the skies

The chorus joins? no, let us sing,

And while our voices rise,

O, let our lives, great God, breathe forth

A constant melody;

And every action be a tone

In that sweet hymn to Thee!

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