Good Friday

When I survey the wondrous CrossBy the Prince of Glory diedMy richest gain I count but lossAnd pour contempt on all my prideSee from his head, hands, feetSorrow and love flow mingled downNo such love and sorrow ever meetOr thorns compose so rich a crownCross, O wonderful, wonderful CrossBids me come and die and I have found that truly liveCross, O wonderful, wonderful CrossAll who gather here by

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