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Christ, You owned no resting place,
As where birds and foxes nested;
Even in death's brief embrace,
In another's tomb You rested.
Yet You never so conspired
As to gain a place, compelling
None to give it; You desired
But to win our heav'nly dwelling.
Christ, You know our cares and needs;
Shall we fret with restless yearning?
Shall we meditate misdeeds,
Others' rights and merits spurning?
How shall we, who own so much,
Give such play to thoughts of taking?
How can You, perceiving such,
Show us mercy, wrath forsaking?
For the sin of our desire,
Savior, kindly grant repentance!
Damp its all-devouring fire;
Loose us from its awful sentence!
Rather covet we Your cross
And that all might love You duly!
Till we share Your heav'nly house,
May we trace Your footsteps truly!
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