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Sing along, if you feel moved. 

Why do we mourn departing friends,

Or shake at death's alarms? 

'Tis but the voice which Jesus sends

To call them to his arms,

To call them to his arms. [1]

They dug up our graves, displaced our homes,

The River flooded our land. 

The new water which Boston demands,

Cost us a lasting peace.

Cost us a lasting peace. 

[1] Consolation, Isaac Watts and Walter Janes; 18th century Anglo-American tune

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