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Text: | Wherefore should man, frail child of clay |
Author: | Enfield |
Text: | When silent steal across my soul |
Author: | Torrey |
Text: | My spirit sinks within me, Lord |
Author: | Watts |
Text: | God of our fathers, 'tis Thy hand |
Text: | While o'er our guilty land, O Lord |
Author: | Watts |
Text: | As the sweet flower which scents the morn |