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A Petition to the Comforter Lord, teach us honest gratefulness A little child's sweet faithfulness Unfold from east to west That first is not the best Lift up from west to east The station of the least Convicting all who seek That "blessed are the meek," That all must lay aside The mask of gaudy pride. Let not us lose but keep The Shepherd's view of his sheep, For whom those safe in fold Do not his anguish hold. His first thought is the lost The wayward tempest-tossed, Him whom the wolf still stalks As through the wild he walks. Heal in us that disease That tempts us from our knees, That tempts our tongue to spite The widow and her mite. Help bind from north to south The devils of our mouth And those from south to north The truth that must go forth-- That Jesus bore our sin That we might virtue win, And bore our agony That we might walk pain free; Incurring all disease To buy our bodies ease. And so it came to pass The First made Himself last Dying upon a cross To give life to the lost,
Gene Pinkney (3-5-95) Copyright
© 2006 Gene Pinkney
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