Hear me
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the poem as
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Every Friday night I bless my
children.
I put my hands upon their inclined heads
And say the words my father said to me:
"May God shine His countenance on
you."
I put my hands upon their inclined
heads,
Chanting with a pure, intense delight.
"May God shine His countenance on you,"
I pray as though my love might make it so.
Chanting with a pure, intense
delight,
Each week I play this part with equal joy.
I pray as though my love might make it so,
That God might live with them as He with me.
Each week I play this part with
equal joy,
And say the words my father said to me,
That God might live with them as he with me
Every Friday night I bless my children.
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon. Free for personal or non-commercial use.
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