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