My Master

Lyricist: Harry Lee

My mas­ter was so ve­ry poor

A man­ger was His crad­ling place;

So ve­ry rich my ma­ster was

Kings came from far to gain His grace.

My mas­ter was so ve­ry poor

And with the poor He broke the bread;

So ve­ry rich my mas­ter was

That mul­ti­tudes by Him were fed.

My mas­ter was so ve­ry poor

They nailed Him nak­ed to a cross;

So ve­ry rich my mas­ter was

He gave His all and knew no loss.

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