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A THOUGHT IN AFFLICTION.

Wilt Thou, O Lord, regard my tears,
The fruit of guilt and fear?
Me, who Thy justice have provoked,
O, will Thy mercy spare?
Yes; for the broken contrite heart,
Saviour, Thy sufferings plead:
O, quench not then the smoking flax,
Nor break the bruised reed!
Thy poor unworthy servant view,
Resign'd to Thy decree;
Ordain me or to live or die,
But live or die in Thee!
Upon Thy gracious promise, Lord,
My humbled soul is cast!
O, bear me safe through life, through death,
And raise me up at last!
Low as this mortal frame must lie,
This mortal frame shall sing,
“Where is thy victory, O grave!
And where, O death, thy sting!”