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LUXEMBURG. 7,7,7, 7.

Old German Choral.

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When the heart is sad within With the thought of all its sin, When the spirit shrinks with fear, Jesu, born of woman, hear!

Thou the shame, the grief hast known, Though the sins were not Thine own, Thou hast deign'd their load to bear; JESU, born of woman, hear !

A

131.

WHEN

our heads are bowd with woe,
When our bitter tears o'erflow,
When we mourn the lost, the dear,
Jesu, born of woman, hear!
Thou our throbbing flesh hast

worn,
Thou our mortal griess hast borne,
Thou hast shed the human tear :
Jesu, born of woman, hear!

Thou hast bow'd the dying head,
Thou the blood of life hast shed,
Thou hast filld a mortal bier :
Jesu, born of woman, hear !

men.

OLD 137th PSALM. D. C. M.

From DAMAN's Psalter, 1579.

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VON

took

The

132. CREAT King of nations, hear our prayer, while at Thy feet we fall, U And humbly, with united cry, to Thee for mercy call; The guilt is ours, but grace is Thine, O turn us not away, But hear us from Thy lofty throne, and help us when we pray. Our fathers' sins were manifold, and ours no less we own, Yet wondrously from age to age Thy goodness hath been shown; When dangers, like a stormy sea, beset our country round, To Thee we look'd, to Thee we cried, and help in Thee was found. With one consent we meekly bow beneath Thy chastening band, And, pouring forth confession meet, mourn with our mourning land; With pitying eye behold our need, as thus we lift our prayer, “Correct us with Thy judgments, Lord, then let Thy mercy spare.”

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Orip 112TH PALM, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8.

LUTHER. Died, 1546.

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133.

AREAT God, to Thee our song we raise,

To Thee devote our grateful praise ; O never may our footsteps rove From Thee, the source of truth and love; But may we still Thy praise proclaim, And joy in our Redeemer's Name.

What though the fig-tree shall decay,
Fruitless the vine shall waste away;
Although the olive shall not bear,
Nor corn produce the ripen'd ear;
Yet still may we Thy praise proclaim,
And joy in our Redeemer's Name.

Though in our folds no flocks abound,
And in our stalls no herd be found,
Though all the hopes of plenty fail,
Though blighting pestilence prevail;
Yet may we still Thy praise proclaim,
And joy in our Redeemer's Name.

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