Dying alone. ' H

Too wicked for prayer, too weak fora moan

Tv be beard In the. streeta of the mazy town,

Gone mad In the Joy of the snow coming down.

To be and to die In my terrible woe,

With a bed and a abroad of the beantlfal anon

Helplege and foul u the trampled snow,

Sinner, despair not! Christ afoopetb tow

To rescue the soul that I. lost in tts sin,

And raise it to life and elgoinient again.

Groaning,

Bleeding,

Dying for thee,

The crucified hung on the accursed tree,

Ills accents of mercy fellsoft an thine ear.

Is them mercy for me? Blithe heed my prayers

°God! in the stream thtt for slam: did now,

Wash me, and Isbell ba.whitei thin snow.

M7