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Hymns Of The Apostolic Church by John Brownlie

The burden of my sin was great,

tr., John Brownlie


The burden of my sin was great,

My soul with pain was crushed;

And every voice of promise sweet,

Was for the moment hushed.


Dark clouds come rolling o'er my head,

And quick the night came down; --

O Christ, if Thine was pain like this,

Thorns were a fitting crown.


O night without, and night within,

And doubt, and fear, and dread;

And all my folly and my sin,

Before my eyes were spread.


And not a hand to still my pain,

And not a voice to bless; --

O Christ, did all Thy pain and woe

Give anguish like to this?


A morning comes when night is past,

A calm when storms are spent;

And healing to my wounded soul,

My God in mercy sent.


I saw the Cross upon the hill,

I felt the dark come down; --

The anguish of His wounded soul,

The stinging of the crown.


And as I looked, the morning grew,

The calm of morn was mine;

For ah! the anguish that He bore,

My troubled soul, was thine.

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