Monday, September 27, 2021

I scarcely know for what to pray. You interpret my groans and intercede, raining providence upon my days.

Is this not what I sought? Wherefore then do I yet whimper?

Let me see the bright sunshine outside my door, Lord. Let me close my book of woe, for there will be other days on which to add to the list.

Today is glory, let me cease this moaning.

(Letter #2,452)