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