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Image on the rosary of my rising and falling breath, making a veritable rosary of my being. Will you not then grace this contemplation rendered without a rosary with your sweet smile? Lord! The tale of agony rising from the breast of humanity has turned my idyll into a song of pathos. Will you not accept that tragic song washed with human tears as a hymn benign? Speak, my Lord, speak! You have been hailed as merciful, as lord of the forlorn and the destitute. Will you not, then, accept lordship over this castaway with the touch of your benign grace?
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