Lord, I confesse, that Thou alone art able
To purifie this my Augean stable:
Be the Seas water, and the Land all Sope,
Yet if Thy Bloud not wash me, there's no hope.
To purifie this my Augean stable:
Be the Seas water, and the Land all Sope,
Yet if Thy Bloud not wash me, there's no hope.
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