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The Book of Praise.
Oh ! with a living growth inspire, Not Thy blest gifts, but our desire, That we may taste Thy mercy's store, And thirst and hunger never more !
John Ernest Bode. 1860. |
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" And forgive us our Trespasses?
23
When rising from the bed of death, O'erwhelm'd with guilt and fear,
I see my Maker face to face, O how shall I appear !
If yet, while pardon may be found,
And mercy may be sought, My heart with inward horror shrinks,
And trembles at the thought,
When Thou, O Lord, shalt stand disclos'd
In majesty severe, And sit in judgment on my soul,
O how shall I appear !
But Thou hast told the troubled soul,
Who does her sins lament, The timely tribute of her tears
Shall endless woe prevent.
Then see the sorrows of my heart,
Ere yet it be too late, And add my Saviour's dying groans
To give those sorrows weight. |
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