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I pray to God – right as I should,
but words of prayer are dismayed or rigid.
My soul is like a battle field –
it’s all as if by fire singed.

My candle’s burning in the night.
Why can’t I read my Book in its light?
I can’t feel the prophetic word –
I’m throwing off the Book, oh, Lord.

But then I feel – I’m not dumb yet –
how the star’s shade along the roof is sliding!
Give back to me my mournful spirit, oh, Lord
to comprehend for what I’m striving.

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