The dawn breaks, the bright sun beams.
Is this what I was waiting for? How contingent, then, is my joy.
Can my joy be independent of events, laughing even in the rain?
Inhabit me, Lord.
(Letter #3,932)
The dawn breaks, the bright sun beams.
Is this what I was waiting for? How contingent, then, is my joy.
Can my joy be independent of events, laughing even in the rain?
Inhabit me, Lord.
(Letter #3,932)