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705.

[Hail, Galilean King]

Then did they spit in His face, and buffeted, &c. —xxvi. 67.

Hail, Galilean King,
Thy humbled state we sing!
Mock'd, and spit upon below,
Smote by sacrilegious hands,
Man would not his Maker know;
Angels fly at Thy commands.
From spitting, shame, and scorn,
Thy face Thou didst not turn:

413

How unlike our Pattern we!
Sacred is our character,
Every trivial injury
Seems too great for life to bear.
Our quick-resenting pride
Henceforth we cast aside,
Lay our honour at Thy feet,
Meeken'd by Thy Spirit's power,
Like the Lamb of God submit,
Jesus on the cross adore.