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38 Prayer In our limited wisdom we falter We fall like dry meadow grass to the sword of the devil We fall to the malady of hate And with voracious appetite guzzle scorn Lord! We are lost from your path Straying into the dry sands of darkness Where the jackals cavort and drool, Striking down the lost, scattered desperate flock Come now Lord! Come! Calm the roaring and rising seas, the scotching sun Let our guns die, and wars sink beneath your feet Let diseases perish into paralysis Lord, cure us from this arrogance Pour us out, and cast us unto the sea Where we’ll sure bathe in the glory of your omnipresence Once more huddled under the moon of innocence We will reconcile with you, Our Maker! ...

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