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OUR MASTER is a worker and we work with him.

Boisterous is his mirth and we laugh with his laughter.

He beats his drum and we march.

He sings and we dance in its tune.

His play is of life and death. We stake our joys and sorrows and

play with him.

His call comes like the rumbling of clouds; we set out to cross

oceans and hills.

 

 

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