PcmHЪD(»гZ▓┴TЧ     5(%НUAг░n|dК%п#=  Ђ],Тљо&╚F─-зб~z2№│УГ║■ VЮ3X?╝ЛD =ђj G[9б }   г ░лпУЭ  $0@8 xёа@└ << DNameMicrosoft-Windows-NTVDM-System32Version6.0.6000.16386PublicKeyToken31bf3856ad364e35ProcessorArchitecturex86VersionScopeNonSxS                     config.sysѕ         Microsoft-Windows-RootSecurity                      .вЄ         =ђj}    eir land from error's chain. What though the spicy breezes Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle; Though every prospect pleases, And only man is vile! In vain with lavish kindness The gifts of God are strewn; The heathen in his blindness, Bows down to wood and stone. Can we, whose souls are lighted With wisdom from on high - Can we, to men benighted, The Lamp of Life deny? Salvation! Oh, salvation! The joyful sound proclaim, Till each remotest nation Has learned Messiah's name. Waft, waft ye winds, His story; And you, ye waters roll, Till like a sea of glory, It spreads from pole to pole, Till o'er our ransomed nature The Lamb for sinners slain, Redeemer, King, Creator, In bliss returns to reign. Home