A hill not far
Here the gathered clouds are come
as though in shroud to hide the shame ;
All light has left the summit of the hill
the time of sufference has passed,
our sins now borne by one immortal soul
and all is darkness - all is still.
And though to God we raise our voice
and in deliverance rejoice,
that through his grace salvation came
and woke the world to faith renewed ;
All winds blow out, all suns descend
and man by his own weakness ends.
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