The Future Is As Bright As The Promises Of God

For Me

Under the Eastern sky,
Amid a rabble’s cry,
A man went forth to die
For me.
Thorn-crowned His blessed head,
Blood-stained His every tread;
Cross-laden, on He sped
For me.
Pierced glow His hands and feet,
Three hours o’er Him beat
Fierce rays of noontide heat
For me.
Thus wert Thou made all mine;
Lord, make me wholly Thine;
Grant grace and strength divine
To me.
In thought, and word, and deed
Thy will to do. Oh, lead
My soul, e’en though it bleed,
To Thee.

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