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tr., John Brownlie

6,6,6,6,6,6

155156157

I

Bring to the Christ your fears,

And tell your sorrows there,

The faintest cry he hears,

And every faltering prayer;

He knows your weight of woe,

Who dwelt with us below.

II

With thought of sin opprest,

Does conscience smite thee sore?

There is a place of rest,

Where sin afflicts no more;

See, where the blood was spilt,

The cross hath borne thy guilt.

III

Think you of former bliss,

Of happier, sunnier hours,

When fragrant joys you miss,

Bestrewed your path like flowers?

With Christ more joys abound,

Than can on earth be found.

IV

Mourn you a heart estranged,

Once kind, but now grown cold?

A happy friendship changed,

Now that the years are old?

There is a Friend above,

And His, a lasting love.

V

Is there an empty room

Where silence broods alone,

All curtained round with gloom,

Where once the sunlight shone?

Hearts that are linked below,

In Christ no parting know.

VI

Bring then to Christ your fears,

And tell your sorrows there,

The faintest cry He hears,

And every faltering prayer;

He knows your weight of woe,

Who dwelt with us below.

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