Who came of decent people;
He built a church in Dublin town,
And on it put a steeple.
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RGB: 104 78 53
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RGB: 143 139 127
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RGB: 156 56 33
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And founded on a Rock!
All her promises are sure;
Her bulwarks who can shock?
Count her every precious shrine;
Tell, to after-ages tell,
Fortified by power divine,
The Church can never fail.
