Pentecost
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We know not how the day
is to be born,
Whether in clouds of glory,
tongues of flame,
As once at Pentecost the
Spirit came,
Or whether imperceptibly
as dawn;
But as the seed must grow
into the tree,
So life is love,
and love the end must be.
Kenneth E. Boulding
The Naylor Sonnets
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(c) 2002 Holy Cross Monastery
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