Annie Blackburn:
[praying]
Our bones are scattered at the grave's mouth / As when one cutteth wood upon the earth / But mine eyes are unto thee, O God The Lord: / In thee is my trust, leave not me / Keep me from the snares they have laid for me / And the gins of the workers of iniquity / Let the wicked fall into their own nets / Whilst that I withal escape.
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05/03/2025 alle ore 12:46
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