My garden overgrown, my dwelling and yard in disarray. The imperfect makes me see all the more keenly what might be perfection.
Let me lean towards you, Lord. If I draw near, will you?
This imperfect soul needs your grace.
(Letter #3,208)
My garden overgrown, my dwelling and yard in disarray. The imperfect makes me see all the more keenly what might be perfection.
Let me lean towards you, Lord. If I draw near, will you?
This imperfect soul needs your grace.
(Letter #3,208)