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AM I a stone and not a sheep |
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That I can stand, O Christ, beneath Thy Cross, |
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To number drop by drop Thy Blood’s slow loss, |
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And yet not weep? |
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Not so those women loved |
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Who with exceeding grief lamented Thee; |
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Not so fallen Peter weeping bitterly; |
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Not so the thief was moved; |
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Not so the Sun and Moon |
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Which hid their faces in a starless sky, |
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A horror of great darkness at broad noon— |
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I, only I. |
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Yet give not o’er, |
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But seek Thy sheep, true Shepherd of the flock; |
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Greater than Moses, turn and look once more |
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And smite a rock. |