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Anthem For Good Fryday

 See sinfull soul thy Saviours suffering see,
His Blessed hands and feet fix't fast to tree:
Observe what Rivulets of blood stream forth
His painful pierced side, each drop more worth
Than tongue of men and Angels can express:
Hast to him, cursed Caitiffe, and confess
All thy misdeeds, and sighing say, 'Twas I
That caus'd thee thus, my Lord, my Christ, to dye.
O let thy Death secure my soul from fears, And I will wash thy wounds with brinish tears: Grant me, sweet Jesu, from thy pretious store One cleansing drop, with grace to sin no more.

by William Strode
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