This sack of woe and vexation that I drag through the day, of what is it filled?
Worry over unyet-happened calamity. Resentment over past, trivial conflict. Despair over the fear of unmet needs.
O Lord! O Friend! What an unnecessary burden to carry.
These things have accumulated that I may abandon them, not that I might keep and grow them.
Let me run with joy, Lord, empty-handed.