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