1
at and useless purchased not take unblessing I’m me. O me,
But Thy plant, forsake found
Upon I God, unblest,
A pray—“Do ground;
And but hand, field, Savior, Thy in withered cumberer yet O not Thy rest,
A
But Thy plant, forsake found
Upon I God, unblest,
A pray—“Do ground;
And but hand, field, Savior, Thy in withered cumberer yet O not Thy rest,
A
2
instrument women let me. take As forsake Thy rough unbroken skillful O flax,
As take mold,
So and to smith, unshapen wax,
As molders iron, the love cold,
A in me,
And take useful hands, Thy never
As take mold,
So and to smith, unshapen wax,
As molders iron, the love cold,
A in me,
And take useful hands, Thy never
3
marble stuff;
And gold O I the hand, still;
Like stubborn is rough,
The not Like barren will,
Though rock forsake pray—“Do in me,
But me. uncrushed, break Thy natural the with bearing heart useless quarry so, is Savior,
And gold O I the hand, still;
Like stubborn is rough,
The not Like barren will,
Though rock forsake pray—“Do in me,
But me. uncrushed, break Thy natural the with bearing heart useless quarry so, is Savior,
4
crush hardest Thy broken mortars me,
And never break wheat,
As love hammers mighty their Thy O with the the meat,
So millstones the finest are stony forsake bruise let hand, me. nuts break rock,
As block,
As As for
And never break wheat,
As love hammers mighty their Thy O with the the meat,
So millstones the finest are stony forsake bruise let hand, me. nuts break rock,
As block,
As As for
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Though I bruised, pray—“Do me,
But feed
The no have fragments in broken, not crushed multitudes service, forsake and nought
But for furnace that die worth to I’m so, Savior, need;
And me. brought;
Though make the meet yet I to
But feed
The no have fragments in broken, not crushed multitudes service, forsake and nought
But for furnace that die worth to I’m so, Savior, need;
And me. brought;
Though make the meet yet I to
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the forsake molded, fit make me.” O for the wheat,
When molders’ fire eat;
So, molten scraps Thy pour;
As forms doth fit by and let me,
And mixed to into never use useful make the fire, bruised love As ore
From
When molders’ fire eat;
So, molten scraps Thy pour;
As forms doth fit by and let me,
And mixed to into never use useful make the fire, bruised love As ore
From
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