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 But thou this ruin to repair, Tock'ſt ſome of fallen Adam's race, Like the beſt angels made them fair, And ſit to fill that empty ſpace.

Let me ſweet Chriſt, now undertake, The moving cauſes forth to ſhew, Why thou left heaven and didſt make A viſit for this earth below.

Why thou didſt voluntary leave, The Father's high throne for a while, To be accounted for a ſlave, And live with rebels in exile.

Why thou with fleſhy vale did chuſe, Thy divine countenance to hide, Why thou to die. didſt not refuſe, And in the grave ſometime abide,

If thou, O Lord, hadſt not ſo, Then had the whole of human race, Been utterly expos'd to woe, And never in God's ſight found grace.

The Father's wrath had not been ſtill'd Nor could his image been repair'd The law could not have been fulfill'd, Which none of mankind would have ſpar'd.

Nor would heaven's door, that once was ſhut Been opend to let any in,