At the end of the day, I see its sins, sins of impotence, sins of weakness, sins of incontinence, and sins of laziness. And who will help me out of this sin? And upon rising in the morning, I see before me the same sins that like a dead weight press on my conscience. O Lord, forgive, heal the wounds of my soul. You give me more and more life, you give these months and years, and I, wretched man that I am [Rom. 7:24], incinerate them in the fires of my sins. But You, O Lord, are my hope, my refuge, my shield, my comfort. To You I give up my sinful soul. S. Bulgakov
RJB
June 20, 2024
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