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O Christ, to whom all love is due,
Whence comes this world's rejection?
What god would dare estrange from You
Our unreserved affection?
All worldly vices manage thus,
And thus our idols conquer us:
Our hearts crave misdirection.
So often, Lord, we likewise seek
To plunder from our neighbor
The help his calling would bespeak,
The partners of his labor:
Wife, children, servants, beasts, and friends,
We mean to master for our ends,
And thus bereave our neighbor.
For vile desires and crafty speech,
We turn in contrite sorrow.
Forgive us, Christ; forbid that each
Another's place should borrow.
For You have borne sin in our place;
With unmixed love, our ransomed race
Owes You the glorious morrow.
1 comment:
I would like to have gotten a line or two about "none shall snatch us out of Your hand" into this hymn, but without adding another whole stanza, there wouldn't be room for it.
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