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     marker 99|  |  |  |  | My soul, this curious house of clay,
 Thy present frail abode;
 Must quickly fall to worms a prey,
 And thou return to GOD.
 
 
 Canst thou, by faith, survey with joy
 The change, before it come?
 And say, “Let death this house destroy,
 I have a heav’nly home!”
 
 
 The Savior, whom I then shall see
 With new admiring eyes,
 Already has prepared for me,
 A mansion in the skies.
 
 
 I feel this mud–walled cottage shake,
 And long to see it fall;
 That I my willing flight may take
 To him who is my all.
 
 
 Burdened and groaning, then no more,
 My rescued soul shall sing,
 As up the shining path I soar,
 “Death, thou hast lost thy sting.”
 
 
 Dear Savior, help us now to seek,
 And know thy grace’s power;
 That we may all this language speak,
 Before the dying hour.
 
 
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LYRICS
 
      
        | Meter: | 8  6  8  6   (C.M.) 
 |  | Writer(s): |  |  | Trans/Adapted: |  |  | Dates: | 
 |  | Bible Refs: | 2 Co 5:1; 
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echo ' | '; |