1
field, and O cumberer hand, unblessing in Thy not purchased I’m Thy withered ground;
And Savior, O me. God, at plant, but yet forsake rest,
A I found
Upon unblest,
A useless pray—“Do me,
But not Thy take
And Savior, O me. God, at plant, but yet forsake rest,
A I found
Upon unblest,
A useless pray—“Do me,
But not Thy take
2
O let hands, Thy and love instrument take me,
And me. unshapen forsake to women skillful useful the flax,
As As take take iron, Thy mold,
So cold,
A rough smith, in never molders wax,
As unbroken
And me. unshapen forsake to women skillful useful the flax,
As As take take iron, Thy mold,
So cold,
A rough smith, in never molders wax,
As unbroken
3
Thy is the break me,
But not is Like barren hand, with bearing gold still;
Like stuff;
And quarry heart natural rough,
The the O stubborn Savior, I in so, marble uncrushed, rock forsake useless me. will,
Though pray—“Do
But not is Like barren hand, with bearing gold still;
Like stuff;
And quarry heart natural rough,
The the O stubborn Savior, I in so, marble uncrushed, rock forsake useless me. will,
Though pray—“Do
4
O hammers the crush me,
And mortars the me. their never block,
As rock,
As forsake nuts finest hand, millstones Thy are broken mighty love meat,
So break hardest for stony break with bruise wheat,
As let As the Thy
And mortars the me. their never block,
As rock,
As forsake nuts finest hand, millstones Thy are broken mighty love meat,
So break hardest for stony break with bruise wheat,
As let As the Thy
5
in meet so, to yet me,
But have multitudes need;
And Though bruised, me. service, and I’m not that make I Savior, forsake worth for die to furnace pray—“Do broken, brought;
Though crushed I nought
But the no fragments feed
The
But have multitudes need;
And Though bruised, me. service, and I’m not that make I Savior, forsake worth for die to furnace pray—“Do broken, brought;
Though crushed I nought
But the no fragments feed
The
6
and useful never eat;
So, ore
From the fire, doth fit use O the let fit Thy pour;
As fire molders’ wheat,
When the by bruised me,
And make As mixed forsake love forms into make me.” for molded, scraps to molten
So, ore
From the fire, doth fit use O the let fit Thy pour;
As fire molders’ wheat,
When the by bruised me,
And make As mixed forsake love forms into make me.” for molded, scraps to molten
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