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tr., John Brownlie




O Lord, Thou in the hour of need,

Didst succour those who sought Thine aid,—

The faint revive, the hungry feed,—

And on the sick thine hand was laid.


Our needy souls Thy help would crave,

For faint they droop, and hungry pine,—

Lord, from their mortal sickness save,

And heal them by Thy power divine.


Where memories weave a sombre web,

And sighs reveal the heart distressed,

Where joys that flowed, in murmurs ebb,

And buoyant souls are sore oppressed;


Come as of yore, all helpful, come,

And let Thy loving kindness bless,

That, where the voice of praise is dumb,

Songs may arise of thankfulness.

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