| Citizen of the World |
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No longer of Him be it said
“He hath no place to lay His head.”
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In every land a constant lamp
Flames by His small and mighty camp.
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There is no strange and distant place
That is not gladdened by His face.
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And every nation kneels to hail
The Splendour shining through Its veil.
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Cloistered beside the shouting street,
Silent, He calls me to His feet.
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Imprisoned for His love of me
He makes my spirit greatly free.
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And through my lips that uttered sin
The King of Glory enters in.
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