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Poems of Henry Francis Lyte
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When at Thy Footstool, Lord, I Bend
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When at Thy footstool, Lord, I bend, And plead with Thee for mercy there, Think of the sinner’s dying Friend, And for His sake receive my prayer.
O think not of my shame and guilt, My thousand stains of deepest dye; Think of the blood which Jesus spilt, And let that blood my pardon buy.
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