Still throned in Heav'n, to men in unbelief Christ spreads His hands all day; They scan His claims, give judgment cold and brief, And fearless turn away. Once more, O peerless mystery of grace! Thy sweet appeal renew; Light up dark minds; win souls to Thine embrace; High forts of doubt subdue. Speak, till the sons of peace, with hearts unseared, Led by that voice of Thine, Find Him each day more glorious, more endeared, Christ human, Christ divine.
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