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749.

[Yes; though Thou fill my flesh with pain]

God exacteth of thee less than thine iniquity deserveth. —xi. 6.

Yes; though Thou fill my flesh with pain,
With bitterness my cup,
And let me in my sins remain,
To fill the measure up;

242

I must Thy righteousness declare,
Whate'er on earth I feel,
And less than my deserts I bear,
Who am not yet in hell.