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 Fra Lippo, we have learned from thee
 A lesson of humanity:
  To every mother's heart forlorn,
 read more 
 Fra Lippo, we have learned from thee
 A lesson of humanity:
  To every mother's heart forlorn,
   In every house the Christ is born. 
 All His glory and beauty come from within, and there He delights 
to dwell, His visits there are frequent, read more 
 All His glory and beauty come from within, and there He delights 
to dwell, His visits there are frequent, His conversation sweet, 
His comforts refreshing; and His peace passing all understanding. 
 Near, so very near to God,
 Nearer I cannot be;
  For in the person of his Son
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 Near, so very near to God,
 Nearer I cannot be;
  For in the person of his Son
   I am as near as he.
    So dear, so very dear to God,
     More dear I cannot be;
      The love wherewith he loves the Son -
       Such is his love to me. 
 His love at once and dread instruct our thought;
 As man He suffer'd and as God He taught.  
 His love at once and dread instruct our thought;
 As man He suffer'd and as God He taught. 
 And on his brest a bloodie crosse he bore,
 The deare remembrance of his dying Lord,
  For read more 
 And on his brest a bloodie crosse he bore,
 The deare remembrance of his dying Lord,
  For whose sweete sake that glorious badge he wore. 
 God never gave man a thing to do concerning which it were 
irreverent to ponder how the Son of read more 
 God never gave man a thing to do concerning which it were 
irreverent to ponder how the Son of God would have done it. 
 Thou hast conquered, O pale Galilean;
 The world has grown gray from thy breath;
  We have drunken read more 
 Thou hast conquered, O pale Galilean;
 The world has grown gray from thy breath;
  We have drunken from things Lethean,
   And fed on the fullness of death. 
 In every pang that rends the heart
 The Man of Sorrows had a part.  
 In every pang that rends the heart
 The Man of Sorrows had a part. 
 Hail, O bleeding Head and wounded,
 With a crown of thorns surrounded,
  Buffeted, and bruised and battered,
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 Hail, O bleeding Head and wounded,
 With a crown of thorns surrounded,
  Buffeted, and bruised and battered,
   Smote with reed by striking shattered,
    Face with spittle vilely smeared!
     Hail, whose visage sweet and comely,
      Marred by fouling stains and homely,
       Changed as to its blooming color,
        All now turned to deathly pallor,
         Making heavenly hosts affeared!