Excerpt from Hymns Translated From the Parisian Breviary

Thus to hearts in slumber weak Let the heavenly trumpet speak, And, like streaks of early morn, New ways mark the newly born. Grant us this, and with us be, Sole fountain of all charity, Thou who dost the Spirit give, Bidding the dead letters live. Equal praise to Father, Son, And to Thee, the Holy One, By whose quickening breath divine Our dull spirits burn and shine.

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