Like the ancients of old
Sacrificing pleasure
Let the gospel be told
Come and take up
Your cross and die
It'll make you suffer
It'll make you cry
But blessed are those
Who do mourn now
Who before the cross
Have learnt to bow
Who consider their life
And all things but dung
To kiss the wood
Where the saviour hung
Splintering into
Their fleshly pleasure
Crucifying
All worldly leisure
The narrow way
Is surely straight
But your life now
You must truly hate
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