[Written for the Sentinel]

Offertory

O new-born day, my chalice filled
I bring unto thy shrine,
Repentant dew from night distilled
To be transformed to wine.

O ripening noon, my listening ear
Awaits thy harvest call
To fields already white and near,
That not one grain may fall.

O vesper bell, unto thy song
I blend my own of praise,
To hear the echo sweet, Well done,
Rest now in Sabbath ways.

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