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 For bells are the voice of the church;
 They have tones that touch and search
  The hearts read more 
 For bells are the voice of the church;
 They have tones that touch and search
  The hearts of young and old. 
 Hark! the bonny Christ-Church bells,
 One, two, three, four, five, six;
  They sound so woundy great,
 read more 
 Hark! the bonny Christ-Church bells,
 One, two, three, four, five, six;
  They sound so woundy great,
   So wound'rous sweet,
    And they troul so merrily. 
 With deep affection
 And recollection
  I often think of
   Those Shandon bells,
  read more 
 With deep affection
 And recollection
  I often think of
   Those Shandon bells,
    Whose sounds so wild would,
     In the days of childhood,
      Fling round my cradle
       Their magic spells. 
 And the Sabbath bell,
 That over wood and wild and mountain dell
  Wanders so far, chasing all read more 
 And the Sabbath bell,
 That over wood and wild and mountain dell
  Wanders so far, chasing all thoughts unholy
   With sounds most musical, most melancholy. 
 How soft the music of those village bells,
 Falling at interval upon the ear
  In cadence sweet; read more 
 How soft the music of those village bells,
 Falling at interval upon the ear
  In cadence sweet; now dying all away,
   Now pealing loud again, and louder still,
    Clear and sonorous, as the gale comes on!
     With easy force it opens all the cells
      Where Memory slept. 
 Softly the loud peal dies,
 In passing winds it drowns,
  But breathes, like perfect joys,
  read more 
 Softly the loud peal dies,
 In passing winds it drowns,
  But breathes, like perfect joys,
   Tender tones. 
 Hark, how chimes the passing bell!
 There's no music to a knell;
  All the other sounds we read more 
 Hark, how chimes the passing bell!
 There's no music to a knell;
  All the other sounds we hear,
   Flatter, and but cheat our ear.
    This doth put us still in mind
     That our flesh must be resigned,
      And, a general silence made,
       The world be muffled in a shade.
        [Orpheus' lute, as poets tell,
         Was but moral of this bell,
          And the captive soul was she,
           Which they called Eurydice,
            Rescued by our holy groan,
             A loud echo to this tone.] 
 The vesper bell from far
 That seems to mourn for the expiring day.  
 The vesper bell from far
 That seems to mourn for the expiring day.