| There’s a hill lone and grey
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| In a land far away,
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| In a country beyond the blue sea;
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| Where beneath that fair sky,
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| Went a man forth to die,
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| For the world and for you and for me.
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| Oh, it bowed down my heart
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| And the teardrops will start,
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| When in memory all the grey hill I see;
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| For 'twas there on its side
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| Jesus suffered and died,
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| To redeem a poor sinner like me.
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| Behold, faint on the road,
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| 'Neath the world’s heavy load,
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| Comes a thorn-crowned man on the way;
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| With a cross, he is bowed,
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| But still on through the crowd,
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| He’s ascending that hill lone and grey.
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| Hark, I hear the dull blow
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| Of the hammer swung low;
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| They are nailing my Lord to the tree
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| And the cross they up-raise
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| While the multitude gaze
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| On the blessed Lamb of dark Calvary.
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| Oh, it bowed down my heart
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| And the teardrops will start,
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| When in memory all the grey hill I see;
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| For 'twas there on its side
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| Jesus suffered and died,
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| To redeem a poor sinner like me.
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| How they mocked him in death
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| To his last laboring breath,
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| While His friends sadly wept o’er the way.
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| But though lonely and faint,
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| Still no word of complaint
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| Fell from Him on that hillock of grey.
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| Then a darkness come down
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| And the rocks went around,
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| And a cry pierced the sad-laden air;
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| 'Twas the voice of our King,
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| Who received death’s dark sting,
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| All to save us from endless despair.
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| Let the sun hide its face,
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| Let the earth reel space,
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| Over man who their Savior have slain;
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| But, behold, from the sod
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| Comes the blessed Lamb of God,
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| Who was slain, but is risen again.
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| Oh, it bowed down my heart
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| And the teardrops will start,
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| When in memory all the grey hill I see;
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| For 'twas there on its side
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| Jesus suffered and died,
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| To redeem a poor sinner like me. |