The farmhouse standing alone, one window lit, a soul at dawn prayer.
A lone shadow, seated on a bench, watching the sunrise easterly over the grand river bank.
A dim study, a grand desk, volumes stacked and dog-eared, elbows on table, hands clasped, head bowed.
I know all these friends. Here in the dawn, away from the world yet in it, connected through you, Lord. We listen for you in the stillness.
Your voice whispers to us. Let us do your will.
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