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Original Text
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It is a thing most wonderful, Almost too wonderful to be,
That God's own Son should come from heaven,
And die to save a child like me.
And yet I know that it is true: He chose a poor and humble lot,
And wept, and toiled and mourned and died,
For love of those who loved him not.
I sometimes think about the Cross, And shut my eyes,
and try to see The cruel nails and crown of thorns, And Jesus crucified for me.
But even could I see him die, I should but see a little part
Of that great love, which, like a fire, Is always burning in his heart.
And yet I want to love thee, Lord; O light the flame within my heart,
And I will love thee more and more, Until I see thee as thou art.
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