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Singing at the PLOW.
  
  
  
  
  
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111

Singing at the PLOW.

My Heart, how very Hard its grown!
Thicken'd and stiffen'd Clay:
Daily trod by the Wicked One;
Of Sin the Beaten Way.
An Heart, wherein compacted Weeds
Of Diverse Lusts abound;
No Entrance for the Heavenly Seeds,
Falling on such a Ground!
O my Almighty SAVIOUR, come;
Thy Word's a wondrous Plow:
And let thy SPIRIT drive it home;
This Heart, Oh! Break it so!
Lord, let my Broken Heart receive
Thy Truth with Faith and Love:
May it a Just Reception give
To what falls from Above.
Will my GOD Plow upon a Rock!
Change thou the Soyl, my Lord!
My Heart once by thy Plow-share broke,
Will Entertain thy Word.