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OUR LORD JESUS CHRIST |
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2 Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,
Save in the death of Christ, my God; All the vain things that charm me most, I sacrifice them to His blood.
3 See, from His head, His hands, His feet,
Sorrow and love flow mingled down: |
Did e'er such love and sorrow meet, Or thorns compose so rich a crown?
4 Were the whole realm of nature mine. That were a present far too small: Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all. Rev. Isaac Watts, 1707 |
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