These nerves they ache and bake
Yet thou helpedst to rise as a sweet cake
Thy matchless grace has captured this hake
Now I behold thy precious make
A lump o' clay that toiled for desires so fake
Unworthy am I of thy take
Yet a vessel of honor thy fingers make
All meet for my Master's sake
O' Jesus thou art the lone lover of my soul
Thine am I and thine shall I ever be!
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