| Blown off was my power — and murdered my peace
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| If thundered in darkness: and if you had faith
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| To move even mountains
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| If profits you nothing
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| When stony and cold is the heart
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| New Year’s Morning
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| Then misery taught me — in midwinter’s chill
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| That light without warming — is torment of hell
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| To struggle I wanted
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| Towards love’s very fountain
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| Myself I did wish to transform
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| New Year’s Morning
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| Where darkly from mountains — a thundering sound
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| Ascends with much power — from song of the old
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| Where tones fully bustle — with roar over field
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| As torrent do welter — in dale of the cliffs
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| Just there felt belonging
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| My heart which when speaking
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| Like roar, was an echo in stone
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| New Year’s Morning
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| Sing low over forest
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| Sing high over water:
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| God’s peace over people of the north
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| New Year’s Morning
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| New Year’s Morning |