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Ring the bell of time immemorial,
Hold your head up high,
Know the noon tide notes are welling
Upward from deep inside,

And outward to the mass of men
Who stand together in a crowd,
And lost, identity of each,
But meld as One so loud.

The song thus grows of essence pure,
It permeates the air,
It gives of dance, and jolly times,
And takes us from despair,

And permanent results are found
When each returns to home,
Not wanting for themselves akin,
They echo so God’s throne.