Thanksgiving for the Rosary
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There is one harp that any hand can play, And from its strings what harmonies arise! There is one song that any mouth can say – A song that lingers when all singing dies,
When on their beds our Mother’s children pray, Immortal music charms the grateful skies.
Sweet, blessed beads! I would not part With one of you for richest gem That gleams in kingly diadem:
Ye know the history of my heart.
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