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Woe is me, my mother,
Because you hast borne me;
Of strife to another,
Contention all who see.
 
I not lent or borrowed,
Yet all of them curse me;
Made toil that sorrowed,
I wish they let me be.
 
Has He not set me free,
Set me free for their good;
He has not heard my plea,
What the enemy should.
 
In the time of trouble,
And the time of distress;
Pull me from the rubble,
That causes all my stress.
 
For the time of evil,
And time of affliction;
Are works of the devil,
Caused by an addiction.
 
Can one break the iron,
Iron made from the steel;
It is God to govern,
Laws of physics ordeal.
 
Your wealth and your treasures,
Gives spoil without price;
For causing such pleasures,
Making you so entice.
 
God makes me serve my foe,
For what they desire;
In a land I not know,
Turns anger to fire.
 
The Lord remembers me,
A vengeance that I take;
Allowing to be free,
That He does not forsake.
 
But His words have been found,
For delighting my heart;
With His voice a soft sound,
Repeated to impart.
 
Why is unceasing pain,
And incurable wound;
That healing is in vain,
Caused me to be impugned.

Copyright © 2020 Richard Newton Sherrer




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