TuesdayJan 27, 2026
Quotes: 53419 Authors: 9969
See, Lord, my coat hangs in tatters, like homespun old thread? All that I had, all my strength, I have given in hard work and kept nothing back for myself. Now my poor head swings to offer up all the loneliness of my heart. Dear God, still on my thickened legs I stand here before you; your unprofitable servant. Oh! of your goodness, give me gentle death.
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