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And let this feeble body fail,
And let it faint or die,
My soul shall quit this mournful vale,
And soar to worlds on high.

Shall join the disembodied saints,
And find its long-sought rest,
The only bliss for which it pants,
In my Redeemer’s breast.

O what are all my suff’rings here,
If Lord, Thou count me meet
With that enraptured host t’appear,
And worship at Thy feet!