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An Antheme

 O sing a new song to the Lord,
Praise in the hight and deeper strayne;
Come beare your parts with one accord,
Which you in Heaven may sing againe.
Yee elders all, and all the crowd That in white robes apparrell'd stands Like Saints on earth, sing out aloud, Think now the palmes are in your hands.
Yee living pipes, whose stormy layes Have borrowed breath to praise our king, A well-tun'd thunder loudly raise: All that have breath his honor sing.

Poem by William Strode
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