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SOLOMON'S PRAYER.
I KINGS VIII.
O Lord, shouldst Thou withhold again
From the sick earth the kindly rain,—
Making the grass and flocks to die
And the life-giving rivers dry:
If t'ward this house we turn our face,
Hear Thou in heav'n, Thy dwelling-place,
And when Thou hearest, give Thy grace.
From the sick earth the kindly rain,—
Making the grass and flocks to die
And the life-giving rivers dry:
If t'ward this house we turn our face,
Hear Thou in heav'n, Thy dwelling-place,
And when Thou hearest, give Thy grace.
Should there be famine in the land,
Or fever stalk with burning hand;
Should the blight wither fruit and leaf,
Or the rust devastate the sheaf:
If t'ward this house we turn our face,
Hear thou in heav'n, Thy dwelling-place,
And when Thou hearest, give Thy grace.
Or fever stalk with burning hand;
Should the blight wither fruit and leaf,
Or the rust devastate the sheaf:
If t'ward this house we turn our face,
Hear thou in heav'n, Thy dwelling-place,
And when Thou hearest, give Thy grace.
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Should we be stricken in the fray
And into bondage led away;
Should we for strangers have to toil,
Or should our cities be a spoil:
If t'ward this house we turn our face,
Hear Thou in heav'n, Thy dwelling-place,
And when Thou hearest, give Thy grace.
And into bondage led away;
Should we for strangers have to toil,
Or should our cities be a spoil:
If t'ward this house we turn our face,
Hear Thou in heav'n, Thy dwelling-place,
And when Thou hearest, give Thy grace.
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