Anticipation.
Os gwelir fi, bechadur

7,6,7,6,7,6,7,6

If I, the sin-benighted,

At length attain the goal,

O what will be the transport

Of my enraptured soul:

The triumph celebrating

Of saving Mercy's power,

Nor dread again to perish,

Nor wander evermore!

xx out of the dust
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