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"NAZARENE, THOU HAST CONQUERED!'
IN my haste I cried against Him,
Faithful God and tender friend ;
I let fall the hand that held me,
And I would myself defend.
Then for chastisement came scourging,
When mine own hand held the rod,
And I found myself more cruel
Than had ever seemed my God.
Deeper, deeper, sinking deeper,
'Mid the thorns and in the mire ;
Still my heart held out against him,
And my soul would not aspire.
