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C. M.

The agonies of Christ.


Now let our pains be all forgot,

Our hearts no more repine;

Our suff'rings are not worth a thought,

When, Lord, compared with thine.

In lively figures here we see

The bleeding Prince of love;

Each of us hope, he died for me,

And then our griefs remove.

[Our humble faith here takes her rise,

While sitting round his board;

And back to Calvary she flies,

To view her groaning Lord.

His soul, what agonies it felt

When his own God withdrew;

And the large load of all our guilt

Lay heavy on him too!

But the Divinity within

Supported him to bear;

Dying, he conquered hell and sin,

And made his triumph there.]

Grace, wisdom, justice joined and wrought

The wonders of that day;

No mortal tongue, nor mortal thought,

Can equal thanks repay.

Our hymns should sound like those above,

Could we our voices raise;

Yet, Lord, our hearts shall all be love,

And all our lives be praise.

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