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)

Arms crossed, back turned – yet you await me. I need but open my door.

Yet instead I survey the contents of my shelves, wondering if the jars will last until spring.

What if I left the cellar and walked in sun?

O Providence, you await my approach!

(Letter #2,146)

No great deeds await; this day will be filled with quiet duties. These are great enough.

Will I see the small miracles all around me? Why wait I for a shower of treasure when, drip by drip, pools of gold have already accumulated at my ankles?

Lord, let me quietly attend to these chores.

(Letter #2,145)

Gifts received:

• Fear, that I may avoid wrong.

• Pain, that I may learn.

• Trial, that I may grow stronger.

• Ignominy, that I may appreciate your true love.

What treasures are these, dear Lord? I am wealthy thereby.

Thank you, Friend.

(Letter #2,144)