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* * * The Lord of Sabbath let us praise, In concert with the blest, Who, joyful in harmonious lays, Employ an endless rest. Thus, Lord, while we remember Thee, We blest and pious grow; By hymns of praise we learn to be Triumphant here below. On this glad day a brighter scene Of glory was displayed, By the eternal Word, than when This universe was made. He rises, Who mankind has bought With grief and pain extreme; ’Twas great to speak the world from naught; ’Twas greater to redeem. Samuel Wesley's other poems:
Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1282 |
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