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Eternal Power, whose high abode
becomes the grandeur of a God,
infinite lengths beyond the bounds
where stars revolve their little rounds.
Thee while the first Archangel sings,
he hides his face behind his wings,
and ranks of shining Throne around
fall worshiping and spread the ground.
Lord, what shall earth and ashes do?
We would adore our Maker too:
from sin and dust to thee we cry:
the great, the holy, and the high!