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Sundays after Epiphany

108. How beauteous were the marks divine

L.M.

Breslau:

Leipzig, 1625

Arthur Cleveland Coxe, 1840;

cento.

How beauteous were the marks divine

That in thy meekness used to shine;

That lit thy lonely pathway, trod

In wondrous love, O Son of God!

O who like thee, so calm, so bright,

Thou Son of man, thou Light of Light;

O who like thee did ever go

So patient through a world of woe?

O who like thee so humbly bore

The scorn, the scoffs of men before?

So meek, forgiving, Godlike, high,

So glorious in humility!

And all thy life's unchanging years,

A man of sorrows and of tears,

The cross, where all our sins were laid,

Upon thy bending shoulders weighed.

And death, that sets the prisoner free,

Was pang and scoff and scorn to thee;

Yet love through all thy torture glowed,

And mercy with thy life-blood flowed.

O in thy light be mine to go,

Illuming all this way of woe;

And give me ever on the road

To trace thy footsteps, Son of God!

Amen.

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