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