:::snip:::
Savior, can you hear me? Are you coming soon? How long?
This miry clay is covering my soil-stained shoes,
and there's nary a rock for me to stand on.
The muck fills my pockets as I sink back into myself.
How long, O LORD, will I sing this song?
And will I ever outrun the dogs of my own dark thoughts,
before they break my bones and eat my flesh?
I will wait for you, O LORD, for your salvation,
from my sin, from my dark eyes, from my double-heart.
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