When this poor lisping, stammering tongueLies silent in the grave,Then in a nobler, sweeter song,I’ll sing Thy power to save. There is a fountain filled with bloodWilliam Cowper
When this poor lisping, stammering tongueLies silent in the grave,Then in a nobler, sweeter song,I’ll sing Thy power to save. There is a fountain filled with bloodWilliam Cowper
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