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120 And now his conquering chariot wheels &emsp;Acend the lofty kies; While broke, beneath his powerful cros, &emsp;Death's iron ceptre lies.

Exalted high at 's right hand, &emsp;And of all below, Thro' him is pardoning love dipens'd, &emsp;And boundles bleings flow.

And till for erring, guilty man, &emsp;A brother's pity flows; And till his bleeding heart is touch'd &emsp;With memory of our woes.

To thee, my Saviour, and my king, &emsp;Glad homage let me give; And tand prepar'd like thee to die, &emsp;With thee that I may live. HYMN