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