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