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All after pleasures as I rid one day,

My horse and I, both tired, body and mind,

With full cry of affections, quite astray;

I took up in the next inn I could find.

There when I came, Whom found I but my dear,

My dearest LORD, expecting till the grief

Of pleasures brought me to Him, ready there

To be all passengers' most sweet relief.

O Thou, Whose glorious yet contracted light,

Wrapt in Night's mantle, stole into a manger;

Since my dark soul and brutish, is Thy right,--

To Man, of all beasts, be not Thou a stranger:

Furnish and deck my soul, that Thou may'st have

A better lodging than a rack or grave.

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