The barn has fallen, the roof has opened, the wood is soft.
Still I will rejoice.
The harvest was meager, the seed corn eaten.
Still I will rejoice.
Plague hovers over the land.
Still I will rejoice.
Lord, give me ears to hear your song, which you sing even in the gloom. Dawn is always on the way; dark of night makes me ready for it.
Make me ready, Lord. I will rejoice.
(Letter #2,147)
