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106
THE HYSSOP.
Not to the cedar on the mountain height,But to the hyssop springing from the wall;
Not to a monarch-tree, broad-branched and tall,
But to a lowly herb, fragile and slight,
Is faith compared. Yet hyssop, on that night
When Death o'er Egypt settled like a pall,
Shone as the sceptre of the Lord of all,
Outstretched to guard His own with saving might.
Lord, with that sacred hyssop, which could give
A moment's solace to Thy mortal woe,
Purge me from all my sin, and bid me live,
And guard and comfort me where'er I go;
I seek not high things like the cedar tree,
The blood-stained hyssop is enough for me.
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