  Where the blue dome is infinite, And choral voices of the sea Chaunt the high lauds, or meek, as now, Intone their ancient litany; Where through his ritual pomp still moves The Sun in robe pontifical, Whose only creed is catholic light, Whose benediction is for all; I enter with glad face uplift, Asperged on brow and brain and heart; I am confessed, absolved, illumed, Receive my blessing and depart. |
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