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Brethren, arise!
'Tis time we were afoot! What sound was that

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In yonder wood? 'Twas like the clash of arms;—
Men spake of bandits late.
Brethren, awake! 'Tis Eve of Whit-Sunday:
Eve of the Birth-day of God's Church on Earth:
His Church Triumphant waits us in the skies.
But we have humbler visitants this hour:
Three thousand late baptized in Borduc's stream—
Thanks to this balmy June nor girl nor boy
Nor sire grey-haired shivered in the water—
We them meet us in yon wood this day
For the Confirmation Rite. Arise. They wait.