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The Living Temple
O Covenant! O Temple! O frail pride Of God’s high glory! Set your snowy feet On the Red Mountain, while the pinions beat Of proximate apocalypse. Uncried Halloos of havoc, prophecies denied Fulfilment till the Dawn of Wonder, fleet In songs precursive down the glittering street Where dripped the blood from wounded brows and side.
And you must walk the mountain tops where rode Gabriel, Raphael, Michael, when the stars Fell from their places, and where Satan strode
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