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There's a hill lone and grey |
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In a land far away, |
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In a country beyond the blue sea; |
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Where beneath that fair sky, |
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Went a man forth to die, |
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For the world and for you and for me. |
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Oh, it bowed down my heart |
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And the teardrops will start, |
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When in memory all the grey hill I see; |
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For 'twas there on its side |
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Jesus suffered and died, |
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To redeem a poor sinner like me. |
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Behold, faint on the road, |
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'Neath the world's heavy load, |
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Comes a thorn-crowned man on the way; |
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With a cross, he is bowed, |
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But still on through the crowd, |
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He's ascending that hill lone and grey. |
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Hark, I hear the dull blow |
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Of the hammer swung low; |
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They are nailing my Lord to the tree |
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And the cross they up-raise |
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While the multitude gaze |
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On the blessed Lamb of dark Calvary. |
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Oh, it bowed down my heart |
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And the teardrops will start, |
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When in memory all the grey hill I see; |
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For 'twas there on its side |
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Jesus suffered and died, |
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To redeem a poor sinner like me. |
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How they mocked him in death |
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To his last laboring breath, |
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While His friends sadly wept o'er the way. |
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But though lonely and faint, |
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Still no word of complaint |
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Fell from Him on that hillock of grey. |
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Then a darkness come down |
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And the rocks went around, |
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And a cry pierced the sad-laden air; |
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'Twas the voice of our King, |
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Who received death's dark sting, |
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All to save us from endless despair. |
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Let the sun hide its face, |
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Let the earth reel space, |
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Over man who their Savior have slain; |
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But, behold, from the sod |
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Comes the blessed Lamb of God, |
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Who was slain, but is risen again. |
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Oh, it bowed down my heart |
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And the teardrops will start, |
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When in memory all the grey hill I see; |
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For 'twas there on its side |
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Jesus suffered and died, |
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To redeem a poor sinner like me. |