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BOOK III. 5 What a sorrow and weight didst thou feel, When nail d, for my sake, to the tree ! My heart sure is harder than steel, To feel no more sorrow for thee : Oh ! let me with Thomas descry The wounds in thy hands and thy side, And have feelings like his when I cry, &quot;My God and my Saviour has died !&quot;

6 But if thou hast appointed me still To wrestle and suiter and fight ; make me resign d to thy will, For all thy appointments are right: This mercy, at least I entreat, That, knowing how vile I have been, I, with Mary, may wait at thy feet, And weep o er the pardon of sin.

1 DEAR Lord ! accept a sinful heart, Which of itself complains, And mourns, with much and frequent smart, The evil it contains.

2 There fiery seeds of anger lurk, Which often hurt my frame ; And wait but for the tempter s work, To fan them to a flame.

3 Legality holds out a bribe To purchase life from thee ; And discontent would fain prescribe How thou shalt deal with me.

4 While unbelief withstands thy grace, And puts the mercy by, Presumption, with a brow of brass, Says, &quot; Give me, or I die.&quot;

5 How eager are my thoughts to roam In quest of what they love !