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Asshur doth not save us, on a horse we ride not, Nor do we say any more, Our God, to the work of our hands, For in Thee find mercy doth the fatherless.'

I heal their backsliding, I love them freely, For turned back hath Mine anger from him.

I am as dew to Israel, he flourisheth as a lily, And he striketh forth his roots as Lebanon.

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