If only once I could repair The fault-lines that I find in me Perhaps then a purer air I might breathe and breathing free
Of falsehoods and the inner flaws That hold me back from knowing Thee. It seems that evil has its claws That appear to grasp with impunity
My lower self that is half-awake. Around me evil seems to win And I in weakness oft partake In the war of consciousness with sin.
Help me Lord to climb the stair That I might meet the Mother there.
Poems Undated (1727)
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