I age; am I the same ship that set sail many years ago? The mast, timber, and rigging have been replaced, yet still I struggle with the winds and list. Point me east and still I drift.
Should I not have arrived? Should my ways not by now be straight?
So much repair remains.
Lord, you give me the dawn like a shiny new coin. My chores are the same as ever and it is the same body I bring to each one.
How many times have I swept this floor? Let me rediscover the broom.
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