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| 94 LORD Jesus, come; for here Our paths through wilds are laid We watch as for the dayspring near, Amid the breaking shade. Lord Jesus, conic; for hosts Meet on the battleplain The captive mourns, the tyrant boasts, And tears are sized like rain. Lord Jesus, come; for still Vice shouts her empty mirth, The famished crave in vain their fill, While teems the fruitful earth. HARK I HERALDVOICES NEAR LEAD ON THY HAPPIER DAY COME, LORD, AND OUR HOSANNAS HEAR; WE WAIT TO STREW THE WAY. COME, AS IN DAYS OF OLD, WITH WORDS OF LIFE AND POWER: GATHER US ALL WITHIN THY FOLD, REVEAL THE HAPPY HOUR. |
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