Saturday, September 6, 2008


This bleeding heart, forlorn,
Cruel fate hath tossed untill
In thousand fragments torn,
Is left to suffer still.

From this poor form entrapped,
All life, all hope hath gone,
Pale with Death's garment wrapped,
And yet must linger on...

Descend, Most Holy One,
And with Thy helping hand,
Pray, let all grief be shun,
And take me to Thy land.

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