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C. M.

Condescending grace. Psa. 138:6.

When the Eternal bows the skies

To visit earthly things,

With scorn divine he turns his eyes

From towers of haughty kings.

He bids his aweful chariot roll

Far downward from the skies,

To visit every humble soul

With pleasure in his eyes.

Why should the Lord that reigns above

Disdain so lofty kings?

Say, Lord, and why such looks of love

Upon such worthless things?

Mortals, be dumb; what creature dares

Dispute his aweful will?

Ask no account of his affairs,

But tremble and be still.

Just like his nature is his grace,

All sovereign and all free;

Great God, how searchless are thy ways,

How deep thy judgments be!

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