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C. M.


The Whole Armor of the Lord.

O, speed thee, Christian, on thy way!

And to thine armor cling;

With girded loins the call obey

That love and mercy bring!

There is a battle to be fought,

An upward race to run,

A crown of glory to be sought,

A victory to be won.

O, faint not, Christian! for thy sighs

Are heard before God’s throne;

The race must come before the prize,

The cross before the crown.

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