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- I'VE been a hopeless sinner, but I understand a saint,
- Their bend of weary knees and their contortions long and faint,
- And the endless pricks of conscience, like a hundred thousand pins,
- A real perpetual penance for imaginary sins.
- I love to wander widely, but I understand a cell,
- Where you tell and tell your beads because you've nothing else to tell,
- Where the crimson joy of flesh, with all its wild fantastic tricks,
- Is forgotten in the blinding glory of the crucifix.
- I cannot speak for others, but my inmost soul is torn
- With a battle of desires making all my life forlorn.
- There are moments when I would untread the paths that I have trod.
- I'm a haunter of the devil, but I hunger after God.
- Gamaliel Bradford
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