Grand Chorus

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By John Dryden

As from the power of sacred lays
The spheres began to move,
And sung the great Creator's praise
To all the blest above;
So when the last dreadful hour
This crumbling pageant shall devour,
The trumpet shall be heard on high,
The dead shall live, the living die,
And Music shall untune the sky.

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This page contains a single entry by Ron Moffat published on April 14, 2006 10:40 AM.

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