Ancient of Days
O! Ancient of days
who sits on the throne,
You shall reign unending days,
And no one can drone.
Your garment white as snow,
Your hair like pure wool,
You’re highly lifted; I know,
One who doubts you is a fool.
Your throne like fiery flame,
And your wheels as burning fire,
Your foes are put to shame
And for’er damned in your ire.
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