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Who am I, most holy Father
That you call me your very own?
I stand in the dust that formed me,
To weep for the lost of the world,
-and no one there hears me.
I stumble down streets overcrowded
With the outcast of a hate filled world,
-and no one there lifts me up.
I struggle to make my way along
Paths filled with killers and thieves
-and no one there protects me.
Who am I, most holy Father,
That you call me your most beloved?
Beaten, broken, and weak from pain,
Dragged down in the world's despair,
-and no one there comforts me.
Bent with a burden to great to bear
Life dripping on the stones below
-and no one there tends to me.
Whipped, torn, hanging in the breeze
The sin of man nailed to my heart,
-and no one there strengthens me.
Who am I, most holy Father,
That you call me fearfully made?
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Matthew 3:17 (NKJ): And suddenly a voice came from heaven, saying, "This is My beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.''
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