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THE PHARISEE AND THE PUBLICAN

Valdimar Briem (1848-1930)

8.8.8.8.8.8

46

Unto God's House in olden day

Two men together went to pray;

This for his right deeds sought reward,

That for mere mercy low implored.

When in Thine House to Thee I cry,

Lord, whether of the twain am I?

Ofttimes I kneel, a Pharisee

In sinful self-complacency,

Though nought I have, and all I owe:

Thy pardon, gracious Lord, bestow,

And grant that humbler mind which stayed

Far off in temple courts, and prayed.

I dare not lift mine eyes on high

To search the glories of the sky;

But, seated on Thy throne of light,

Thou, Lord, canst pierce this earthly night;

Thine eyes can count each contrite tear,

No sigh but finds Thy listening ear.

My breast I smite in sorrow sore,

And lo! I knock at Mercy's door:

Be each unlocked—my breast to Thee,

Thy Kingdom's boundless realm to me:

So make my heart, from sin washed pure,

Thy Kingdom, Lord, for evermore.

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