A bruised reed and tender shoot? The great awakening of her as my balm of Gilead, the way my soul is made better, the ointment on self-inflicted wounds, the anointing of myself for marching honestly over to Zion, my narrow way made wider for her, the gift she is always giving to me, to standing lovingly on Jordan’s Stormy banks, she is my Following Drinking Gourd, my ever brightening North Star.
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