The soil is stony, yet still comes bounty.
A windswept ridge, yet still my bed is dry.
A drought, yet I thrive.
These hard days conspire, yet you have been the wind at my back. Daily you visit, a friend.
Lord, how possibly could I still stand? You steady me, a nurse to the aged.
O gratitude! I am insufficiency made flesh. Yet you stay with me.
Let me not forget.