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L. M.

Longing to praise Christ better.


Lord, when my thoughts with wonder roll

O'er the sharp sorrows of thy soul,

And read my Maker's broken laws

Repaired and honored by thy cross;

When I behold death, hell, and sin

Vanquished by that dear blood of thine,

And see the Man that groaned and died

Sit glorious by his father's side;

My passions rise and soar above,

I'm winged with faith, and fired with love;

Fain would I reach eternal things,

And learn the notes that Gabriel sings.

But my heart fails, my tongue complains,

For want of their immortal strains

And, in such humble notes as these,

Must fall below thy victories.

Well, the kind minute must appear

When we shall leave these bodies here,

These clogs of clay, and mount on high,

To join the songs above the sky.

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