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