letra de walpole - abraham wood
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o, if my soul were formed for woe
how would i vent my sighs!
repentance should like rivers flow
from both my streaming eyes
’twas for my sins my dearest lord
hung on the cursed tree
and groaned away a dying life
for thee, my soul, for thee
o, how i hate those l-sts of mine
that crucified my god!
those sins that pierced and nailed his flesh
fast to the fatal wood!
yes, my redeemer, they shall die
my heart has so decreed;
nor will i spare the guilty things
that made my savior bleed
while, with a melting, broken heart
my murdered lord i view
i’ll raise revenge against my sins
and slay the murderers too
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