Blind were our eyes, our feet were bound to stray,
How blind to Thee!
But Thou didst pity, Lord, our gloomy plight,
And Thou didst touch our eyes and give them sight.
3
Where is death’s sting, where, grave, thy victory?
Where all the pain,
Now that thy King the veil that hung o’er thee
Hath rent in twain?
Light of the world, we hear Thee bid us come
To light and love, in Thine eternal home.
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