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O sweet — attentive to the pray'r,
Ye forward hope and stave despair;
Thro' Christ his blood divinely spill'd,
Tremendous ruin to rebuild.5
Tho' high above the great and just,
Yet thou descendest to the dust;[1]Both to the sovereign and the slave,
Nor quitt'st the monument and grave.
O let me like the righteous die,10
And so I shall if thou art by!
The viol in thy hand uprears[2]My Saviour's blood, my Saviour's tears.
Come, Cherub, come, possess my soul,
All wrath and bitterness controul;15
If thou thy charming pow'rs bestow,
I'll shew thee to my veriest foe.