I am a dismal thing. I am cheerless and tired. I hate the heat. I hate getting old. I hate wasting time. I hate my inabilities. Sometimes it is all I can do to crawl into bed.
I know that my life is blessed when I see the news and all the sadness, the injustice and pain of others.
Please help me to always remember to cry out to you in all my weaknesses and sorrows. Help me to love you “more nearly, more dearly” and in so doing, find some energy and joy with which to go on.