Hunter of priests, the souls
Out of the rocks and holes,
Out from the circled prayer,
Take them, dear Lord, from there--
From ev'ry hill and mount,
Faithful on ev'ry count,
Drawing Thy bow to claim
Thy sharpened arrow's aim.
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O Lord, my strength, and my fortress, and my refuge in the day of affliction, let our fathers know thy hand and thy might; let them know that thy name is The Lord.
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