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Saints of God! Lo, Jesus' people
age to age your glory tell;
in his name for us ye labored,
now in bliss eternal dwell.
Twelve poor men, by Christ anointed,
braved the rich, the wise, the great,
all the world counts dear rejecting,
rapt in their apostolate.
Thus the earth their death-wounds purchased,
hallowed by the blood therefrom,
on her bosom bore the nations,
On this feast, almighty Father,
may we praise thee with the Son,
evermore his love confessing,
who from both with both is one.