Though this frame should die and die
Though this frame should die and die,
though I die a hundred times,
My bleached bones all turn to dust,
my very soul exist or not—
What can change the undivided heart
that glows with faith toward my lord?
though I die a hundred times,
My bleached bones all turn to dust,
my very soul exist or not—
What can change the undivided heart
that glows with faith toward my lord?
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