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At Mass

by
 No doubt to-morrow I will hide
My face from you, my King.
Let me rejoice this Sunday noon, And kneel while gray priests sing.
It is not wisdom to forget.
But since it is my fate Fill thou my soul with hidden wine To make this white hour great.
My God, my God, this marvelous hour I am your son I know.
Once in a thousand days your voice Has laid temptation low.

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