“What language shall I borrow
To thank Thee, dearest Friend,
For this Thy dying sorrow,
Thy pity without end?
O make me Thine forever!
And should I fainting be,
Lord, let me never, never,
Outlive my love for Thee.”
“O Sacred Head, Now Wounded,” stanza 8
by Paul Gerhardt, 1607-1676
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