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7 [Come, the dear day, the glorious hour,
That brings our souls to rest !
But dwell at th' heav'nly feast.] HYMN XVI. Common Metre.
The Agonies of Christ. N OW let our pains be all forgot, IV Our hearts no more repine ; Our fuff'rings are not worth a thought,
Lord, when compar'd with thine. 2 In lively figures here we fee
The bleeding Prince of love ; Each of us hopes he dy'd for me,
And then our griefs remove. 3 [Our humble faith here takes her rise,
While fitting round his board ;
To view her groaning Lord. 4 His soul, what agonies it felt
When his own God withdrew,
Lay heavy on him too! .
Supported him to bear ;
And made his triumph there.] 6 Grace, wisdom, justice, join'd and wrought
The wonders of that day : No mortal tongue, nor mortal thought,
Can equal thanks repay.