Thursday, November 26, 2020

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)