Sunday, December 5, 2021

In desolate lands, I will await delights.

In the desert, I will stride on, confident that my thirst will be quenched.

The crops failed; I will eat my last grain in faith that the land will again provide.

In the dark, before dawn, I cower. With the spreading light, O let me recall faith.

I was rescued yesterday. You will yet rescue me again today.

(Letter #2,521)