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