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)
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