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